


Chance of Fire

by V_Parallel



Category: Little Witch Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crimes & Criminals, F/F, Mental Illness, Romance, Slow Burn, Yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-01-28 02:12:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 101,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12595836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/V_Parallel/pseuds/V_Parallel
Summary: Akko works at a coffee shop that sells five dollar coffees and forty dollar muffins.  Her hobbies are weird, her friends are weirder, and – wow – the prettiest girl Akko has ever seen just walked through the door.





	1. Mix Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, contains themes of mental illness, drug abuse, and suicide.

Coffee was confusing.

This wasn’t true to anyone but Akko, because _everyone_ but her actually drank coffee.

She didn’t. It tasted bad.

What about some tea, then? people would ask.  And she would say no, because _yuck_. Milk was fine, though, because it would help her grow. Height-wise. She wasn’t concerned with her assets. Only vain people were concerned with such petty things. Instead, she was concerned with...

“Your total comes to five dollars and forty cents.”

_Money._

The weight of the coins, the clinking they made when they fell into her hands, the cold feeling on her skin, the metallic smell that was both dirty and delicious.

Recently, she’d actually had a dream of swimming in a bath of coins. That might have been her subconscious trying to tell her to chill, but it only fueled her desire more. There was no chill for someone like her; she could only burn hotter and hotter. This money obsession was why she worked at a coffee shop and didn’t drink coffee. Well, part of the reason.

Mocha, latte, frappuccino? She knew what they were. Five ninety one, five twenty, and four sixty three.

And then there were all the derivatives and the different sizes, but hey, that’s what technology was for. She’d gotten pretty adept at working the machines and doodads recently.

Rastavan, the neighbourhood of her coffee shop, was an ugly place. The ugliest, if one wanted to believe last week’s newspaper – because the darned South Leaf and their new community development plans which apparently counted for more than the Absolute-Nothing strategy which Rastavan had employed for the past decade.

In either case, her neighbourhood was not welcoming to people who cared about what got on the soles of their shoes. In a way, it made Rastavan a nice, out-of-the-way place to hide for those who didn’t want to be found, and certain businesses prospered in the shadows of the crumbling, fire-prone apartment buildings. The bonus to this was that, as unorthodox as it was, the residents of Rastavan were somewhat wealthy.

And they could spend money on bean infused hot water (and muffins). That was what it was, wasn’t it? Imported from some third world country so sophisticated people could burn their tongues on it and complement the beans on how well they had bled when they were crushed into dust. Or something like that. She really wasn’t sure.

What she was sure of was that the hottest chick she’d seen in her entire life just walked through the door. The girl wasn’t a regular – as much as Akko would have liked her to be – and she had an expression of distaste, as though she had debased herself just by stepping foot into the coffee shop.

But that might have been true – she was so obviously a celebrity or a model or someone of the likes. Her purse alone was cause enough for someone to mug her, but then there were her high heels, her tight navy blue jeans (which fit so nice) and her wavy blonde hair, which was too bright for such a dreary neighbourhood. Akko was entranced by her unsure blue eyes, her lithe figure, and-

“What?” she growled to the man at the counter, who’d been not-so-subtly clearing his throat. “What can I get you?”

The man ordered a white-chocolate-something-vanilla-something-caramel-spice-and-everything-nice and she took his money as quickly as she could – the feel of it falling into her hands wasn’t as pleasurable when there was a hot girl waiting in line – and he moved aside.

She mustered up her best smile, but it might not have been that good; she’d never practised in front of the mirror because that would have required cleaning the mirror first – and greeted the girl.

“Hello,” Akko said as she busied herself with the man’s poison of choice. “What can I get for you today?”

Her estimation of the girl rose marginally when she heard the pleasant voice-

“Hello. I think I’ll have a dark roast.”

-and then it dropped back down to just hot-girl level after she’d finished ordering the yuckiest possible drink. At least there was the transfer of money to enjoy. The coins were warm, recently dug out of the girl’s jeans, and Akko ruefully abandoned them in the cash register – but not before memorizing their years. Maybe she would fish them out later. Not for any reason, of course. Just because she could.

“Is there a laundromat nearby?” the girl asked.

“Shut down last month,” Akko said, though she was a hundred percent sure the girl wouldn’t have wanted to use it for any of her expensive clothing.

“I see. Thank you,” she said.

A minute later, Akko had served both the drinks and took a moment to herself to watch the girl walk away – she had strands of green in her hair, how had Akko not noticed that before? Usually dyed hair came off as weird, but the girl pulled it off so well that it rose her back above hot-girl level. That was dangerous territory. It was only a few steps away from accidentally-spill-coffee-on-girl-to-learn-her-name level, which was a shameful and desperate level that really shouldn’t have existed.

Akko’s eyes returned to the street. Recently, she’d been watching closer. There was an ongoing power struggle in Rastavan, and she didn’t need any unfriendly people near her store.

“Excuse me.”

It was the man again, with the sugary drink. Did she forget the salted caramel?

“You gave me the wrong drink – this tastes terrible.”

“I did?” Akko said, marginally interested. She didn’t make mistakes like that often. After all, it cost money. “I’m sorry, I’ll remake-”

Wrong drink? _Two_ people had to be involved in a mix-up.

Akko looked around the shop, and her eyes landed on the pretty blonde sitting off to the side, who was just bringing her cup to her lips.

Akko could have said something. She could have warned the girl she was about to ingest a decade’s worth of sugars. But she didn’t.

In her defence, the man didn’t either. A comrade-in-curiosity.

There was a delay in the girl’s reaction – Akko would have liked to be sitting in the seat across from her, to see the widening of eyes in horror – and then the girl tore the cup from her lips, liquid dribbling down her chin and onto her shirt, and she spat the coffee out – Akko would _not_ have liked to be sitting opposite of her – no really, Akko was not into that – but on second thought, exceptions could be made, because _wow_ , that body – and then the girl was onset by coughs.

It was a few seconds later that Akko remembered she was the employee, and not an amused audience member, and she rushed over.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I think I got your drink mixed-”

“You _think_? Are you trying to kill me?”

“No.”

But wow. She was a hot-when-angry type.

The girl slammed a fist on the table. “This is unacceptable. What kind of business do you run here?”

Coffee shop – duh – Akko thought. Now, are you going to punish me?

The girl slid her chair back, moving to stand up – the chair was a cheap one, scavenged from some abandoned apartment which had burned nicely to the ground, and, quite frankly, Akko was surprised the girl had even deigned to sit on it – and it wasn’t Akko’s fault – she was innocent, she swears – but the girl knocked the table, spilling the drink onto her jeans before it fell to the ground.

Now Akko really wished she was in the audience.

“You – how _dare_ you!” The girl paused her accusations to grab a napkin, swear under her breath, and attempt to wipe her jeans dry. The attempt failed, and Akko only managed half a step backwards before the girl accepted the failure and resumed her onslaught of words. “This is unacceptable – I demand to speak with the manager – you _dare_ smile?”

Akko was smiling. She couldn’t help it. It had been a long day, and she just wanted to close up shop, read the news, and crash for the night. The arrival of Miss Prissy had turned out to be much more exciting than she’d imagined.

“You’re speaking to her,” Akko said.

“I’m-” the girl paused, as though if she tried hard enough she could interpret the words in a different way. “What?”

“I’m the manager.”

“You? You can’t be older than sixteen. Don’t lie to me.”

“Eighteen, I’ll have you know.”

“The same age as me?  Then... Akko,” the girl said slowly, reading her name tag. “I demand a refund, and money for a laundromat-”

“I already told you it’s closed,” Akko said, doing her best to ignore the utterance of the R word.

“Don’t test me.”

It would have been more convincing if her words weren’t immediately followed by an uncomfortable squirming. And Akko did feel sorry for her, a little. Wet clothing was uncomfortable. Extremely hot, wet clothing? Well, she’d never spilled hot water on herself – the advantage of not drinking coffee or tea – so she didn’t know, but she could only assume the pain was similar to the flare of heat when a match met gasoline-stained wood and she was standing too close.

“Okay, okay.” Akko turned to the man who was watching. “Out.”

He sputtered something – might have had something to do with the R word, but she didn’t hear. Seriously, she didn’t – it wasn’t like a selective-hearing kind of thing – it was just that all that escaped his lips was a word-soup protest attempt. Obviously, he wanted to watch the girl change, but Akko wasn’t going to let that happen. It would be a paradise for Akko and Akko alone.

Once the man left, she fished a key out of her pocket, brought the girl to the back door, and let them both through.

The back room was Akko’s room. Literally.

It wasn’t particularly big, but it had a high vaulted ceiling and enough room for what she owned.

In one corner, her bed. Well, a pullout futon, but it was comfortable and space-efficient. Not space efficient was her dresser, which existed as cardboard boxes spread throughout her room. One day, she would find a dresser dumped in the junkyard, but until then, there was no point unpacking clothes only to leave them on the ground. Her entertainment was also mostly boxed – thankfully so, as she was having a guest over – and the only literature that had made its way out of the boxes was a book with the first million digits of pi – don’t ask why, because she didn’t have answers. Well, she did – just not all one million of them.

The most valuable thing she owned was her laptop – one of the few modern day frivolities she was able to indulge in – and it was safely stored under her futon. There was a slightly less valuable jar of coins somewhere in her room, too. They weren’t quite relics of an age gone by, but few places took and gave hard cash anymore. That might have been the origin of her infatuation with coins.

All the coffee shop’s storage space was in a separate room, which was more like a closet, so aside from her mess, there was only one other thing in the room: a large safe in the far back corner, hidden beneath a worn out tarp. That was the condition on which she had been given free room and board (and a job).

Her boss, Big F, gave her the place under the promise that she would take care of the safe. Fortunately – and she wasn’t sure if Big F knew or not – safes were easy to take care of. They did not eat food, drink water, or produce waste. They, in fact, didn’t do much of anything at all. With a tarp over it, it didn’t even collect dust.

“Sit, strip, name, and wait,” Akko said. A beautiful combination of words, if she’d ever heard one.

“Excuse me?”

Akko didn’t respond to her guest’s disbelief – she was a little too busy trying to believe her luck – so the girl began to obey.

“Don’t look,” she said, sitting on the futon.

Akko looked away once she’d placed herself between the girl and the mirror on the back of the door. It was a dirty mirror – not something she’d ever thought would be a catastrophic problem, but then again, she wasn’t psychic.

“And why do you need my name?”

“I can’t let a stranger in my house,” Akko said.

Well, maybe she could, with a body like that. How did it go? Hot girls had the world handed to them. Hot girls in pale green panties and bras, well, they probably got that and more. Akko tilted her head, leaned closer to the mirror, and squinted. She liked what she saw – the contours of her hips, and the way her panties hugged her waistline-

Their eyes met in the mirror.

_“Are you looking?”_

“No.”

The girl tossed her shirt and jeans and they nailed Akko in the head.

“If you must know, my name is Diana. Now give me a spare set of clothes.”

“Um-” and her hesitation was only because she had turned around and could now see Diana without a dirty mirror to taint her beauty. “Box. Boxes. One of the boxes. Labelled ‘clothing’. Or ‘dishes’. I don’t actually have any dishes, but these boxes were from a friend, and I never saw the need to relabel them, so the dishes are actually clothing. If you aren’t in a rush, I can run these out to the laundromat.”

“The laundromat is closed.” Diana mimicked her voice almost perfectly.

“A friend’s,” Akko amended. “It’ll be quick, she doesn’t live far from here.”

“Look away,” Diana said. “No mirror this time. I’m giving you the rest of my clothing.”

Akko looked away, Diana was too trusting, and the mirror was too darned dirty. Once Diana had completely changed – the first box she looked in had everything she needed – she shooed Akko out and told her to be quick.  



	2. Couch Talk

Panties. Wet panties. Diana’s wet panties.

Albeit, not wet in the way Akko would have liked, it was still a delight to be carrying them in a bag down the road, like loot from a successful job.

The maniacal grin she had on her face – which, try as hard as she might, she could not erase – drew a few stares. As it were, Akko had long ago burned away shame, and she waved enthusiastically at the people judging her – many of which she recognized as regulars at the coffee shop, or at least familiar neighbourhood faces.

Rastavan may not have been the best neighbourhood, but there was a strong sense of community. Or rather, as of lately, communities. Which didn’t like each other. And sometimes brought boomsticks to unscheduled not-liking-each-other meetings out on the street late at night.

Such was life.

Akko hadn’t lied; her friend Sucy lived ten minutes away, and she had a washer and dryer, among a hundred other more specialized machines that were used in her own business. Akko rung the door and waited a few seconds, before realizing she was being stupid, and then drilled the button as fast as she could. The racket it created inside was not conducive to work, and that was the only way to get an answer.

As expected, Sucy opened the door in a matter of seconds, a scowl on her face (a good sign, by any means).

“Hello,” Akko said brightly.

“What do you want?” Sucy lifted her goggles up and blinked a couple times in the light. “I’m busy.”

“It’s not what I want,” Akko said, adopting a mature, mystical voice. “But what I have.”

“Nothing?”

“Gah!” Actions spoke louder than words, so Akko thrust the bag forward. “Gaze upon the greatest treasure of the twenty-first century.”

Cautiously, Sucy opened the bag and peered inside.

Then she sighed. “What did you do?”

“It wasn’t me!”

“I recall you describing a certain strategy to me, once.”

“Just wash them, okay?” Akko whined. “She did it to herself. Bring them when you make the delivery tonight. I owe you.”

Sucy sighed again. She did that often when Akko was around, for some unfathomable reason.

 

* * *

  

Akko ran back. It was simple math. For every second saved on the way back, she gained a second with Diana. After closing the shop early – all that lost money, now forever in the pockets of other people – she deserved to have a nice, civil conversation with a nice, civil – and beautiful, very beautiful – girl.

She burst into the back room and announced, “I’m back!”

Diana looked up from the futon. It was something Akko had never discovered before, but another girl wearing her clothing was extremely hot – especially when it was an oversized t-shirt that Akko used as nightwear.

On Diana’s lap, the pi book was open to the first page.  Big F hated that book, as though he were afraid the numbers would brainwash Akko.  Diana looked up, seemingly unimpressed by Akko’s entrance – and, well, that sucked, because Akko hadn’t thought she was going to score earlier, and now she was wondering if all Diana saw was a cockroach.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Akko said, because she still needed to be a hospitable guest and entertain Diana until Sucy arrived.

Diana looked down at the book, and then back up. “Fascinating?”

“I like the part where seven-eight-nine-four-zero-six.”

“You... what?”

“Oh gosh, you haven’t gotten that far? I’m sorry for spoiling it.”

“You actually read this?” Diana said, closing the book and turning it over, as if expecting to find a summary on the back.

And there was a summary. The first twenty digits and the last twenty digits of the million. _Riveting_.

“Of course I read it,” Akko said. “Did you know you can get money reciting pi? Like, competition thingies at libraries. Money, can you believe it? Not even e-coins, but _physical_ money!”

Four years ago, the government had introduced e-coins, a digital cryptocurrency that was completely decentralized, secure, and easy to use. It was the natural progression of technology, and fewer and fewer people started carrying cash around. Inevitable, most would say – though there were people who had tried really, _really_ hard to stop the government.

“Easiest money ever,” Akko said, unable to resist grinning. “You might even say it’s as easy as pie.”

Finally – a task Akko had begun to think impossible – Diana smiled.

“So you can do more than screw up coffee orders,” Diana said.

“Of course. I can do number stuff – I did tell you I was the manager here, right? And fire stuff, and-”

“Fire stuff?”

“Uh.” Akko paused. Remember her audience. “Not the crazy useless fire-eating stuff. I just mean I’m good at starting fires-” No, she was not going in the right direction. “-and by that I mean survivalist stuff – you know, like rubbing pieces of wood together.” Good save, Akko. Now casually move on before she can ask more questions. “But that’s not all there is to me. I can do magic!”

“Magic?” Diana said, her eyes meeting Akko’s. “Prove it. Show me.”

“Hmm.” Akko hadn’t thought this far ahead. Nobody had ever challenged this claim before. “If you were a kid, I’d steal your nose.”

“But I’m not.”

“No. I don’t think pulling a coin out of your ear would impress you either.”

“An astute observation. Are you all out of tricks?”

“Of course not! This calls for a card trick.”

Akko dug into a nearby box. She had marked decks and tapered decks, but neither felt right for the occasion. There couldn’t be any risks taken. It would have to be a disposable Svengali deck. She grabbed one (and grabbed a second, normal deck, slipping it into her pocket). Her repertoire of card tricks was limited, but she could still impress an audience of one. It would be a basic illusion, involving one trick, one misdirection, and one deck of cards on fire.

She spread the cards out on the pi book, which acted as a good surface on the futon.

“Pick a card, any card,” she said.

Diana looked doubtful. “It’s not a trick if you can see what card I’m picking.”

“Oh.” She looked away from Diana for a moment – not the easiest task in the world – and discovered that she had, indeed, spread them out facing upwards. With a quick swipe, she collected the cards and fixed her mistake. “Whoops. That was a warm-up. I’m ready now. Pick a card, any card.”

Diana reached out for a card, but then stopped herself. “I didn’t see you shuffle them,” she said.

Again, Akko retrieved the cards. “They say smaller audiences are harder,” she said, “but I never believed it until today.”

“Shuffling is common sense. You wouldn’t play a card game without shuffling, so if you expect to trick me, then it’s the least you should do.”

“Oh, thank you for reminding me,” Akko said. She pulled a card out of the deck and set it aside, face down. “The burn card.”

“I wasn’t aware we were playing poker.”

“We aren’t. I always burn at least one card, when doing tricks.” Akko started shuffling the deck. “Besides, I don’t think you would want to play poker with me. I only play strip poker, and I’m darn good at it.”

“Very funny,” Diana said.

“There,” Akko said, laying the cards out yet again. “Shuffled, burnt, face down. Satisfied?”

“As much as I can be, given the circumstances.”

“Then pick a card.”

“You’re watching.”

“Uh. Sorry?”

“If you want to do a convincing job of tricking me, look away. I think you’ve seen enough.”

Akko covered her eyes with her arm. She was reminded of how much she did see, and how much more she wanted to see. Only then did it occur to her that she was trying to magic her way into someone’s pants. Did that make her a bad person?

“Memorize the card and put it back into the deck. Say ‘fire’ when you’re done.”

“Why ‘fire’?”

“You’re done?”

“No.”

“Then don’t be saying ‘fire’. That’s how you create misunderstandings.”

“Fire,” Diana sighed a few seconds later.

Akko unblocked her view and began shuffling the cards. It wasn’t a normal shuffle, but to the untrained eye, there was no visible difference. Once done, she set the deck down.

“Is this your card?” she said, drawing the first one and placing it face up.

“No,” Diana said. She obviously knew how card tricks worked, because she waited patiently.

“’Course not.  Joking, joking,” Akko said. “Your card is actually on the very bottom.”

She flipped the deck over and flicked the top card off

“Voila,” Akko said. Despite knowing it wasn’t the right card, her confidence remained. “The four of hearts is your card.”

“That’s not it, either,” Diana said, picking up the card.

“Eh? Are you sure?”

“Quite.”

Akko hummed and hawed, putting on a confused expression. “Well, that’s odd.”

“I can’t help but wonder if you don’t actually know any magic tricks, and were insane enough to rely on a two in fifty-two chance of randomly drawing my card.”

“That’s not it,” Akko muttered. “I’m pretty sure I’m the most magical girl in the world.

“You’ve done a dreadful job of convincing me.”

“Oh!” Akko snapped her fingers. “I know what I was doing wrong. I forgot to burn the deck!”

“No, you didn’t,” Diana said, looking purposefully towards the lone card off to the side.

“That’s not what I mean, silly,” Akko said. She pulled out a lighter and held it up to the deck of cards.

Diana understood her intention a moment later. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” Akko said. She flicked the lighter and the flames began to eat at the cards. “Or maybe it’s the world that’s insane.”

There was a moment of confusion for Akko, where fire and girl vied for her attention, but it was stomped out by a third element. The fire was supposed to distract Diana, not herself, because she still had a job to do. Sleight of hand was difficult to do for an audience of one – they would be looking too closely – so this distraction was supposed to buy her some leeway. She made a swap of cards.

The deck of cards she’d set on fire were specialized to burn well, and once the flames were touching Akko’s fingers, she dropped the last corners of the cards and they fluttered to the floor and turned to ashes. With the death of the fire, she felt lost momentarily, and this look must have shown well on her face.

“Are you done with this misguided venture?” Diana said. “You have no more cards to burn, either figuratively or literally.”

With such a line, silence was the perfect response. A slight tilt of the head, too. Diana finally caught on. Akko nodded. Diana reached out and retrieved the single card Akko had discarded earlier. The eight of diamonds, exactly as intended.

“Could it be,” Akko said, a grin on her face, “that your card is the eight of diamonds?”

Diana turned it around, examining it.

“The Unmelting Snowman,” Akko said.

Diana looked up momentarily. “Huh?”

“Aw. I thought that was a good one. Y’know, snowman because it’s an eight, and unmelting because diamonds are forever and it was burned but not burned? Or something like that?”

“I see.”

“You’re not smiling,” Akko said. “Why not? Did I do something wrong?”

“How did you do it?”

“Magic,” Akko said.

“There’s no such thing.”

“It’s more fun if you believe.”

“Nobody sane believes.”

“Did you believe in Santa Claus?”

“Yes,” Diana said. “When I was five.”

“Oh. So you’re insane?”

“If you must be technical, then I will point out that yes, children aren’t rational. I will freely admit I believed in magic tricks when I was five, too. But we grow up, and we learn how the world works, and to ignore these fundamental rules is _wrong_.”

“If you believed in Santa Claus for five years, why can't you believe in this for five minutes?”

“That’s faulty logic.”  Diana, consciously or not, was bending the Unmelting Snowman in her hand.  “Believing in lies is not a good policy.”

“But not all lies are bad. These are fun lies to believe. Why do you think people go to magic shows? They _want_ to be tricked.”

“They want to be entertained.”

“Come on,” Akko exclaimed. “At least try! Suspension of disbelief! Just like when you read fantasy stories.”

“Why would I suspend my disbelief? This is real life, and to do so would be inherently dangerous.”

Akko lit the lighter again and glared at it. “Not dangerous.”

“I’m not saying the trick didn’t entertain me,” Diana relented. “But now that it’s over, and I’ve thought about it, I would like to know how it was done.”

“No can do. A magician never reveals their tricks.”

“I’ve heard that line before,” Diana said, turning the Unmelting Snowman around in hand. “Answer me this, then: would it have worked if I had signed the card, or otherwise marked it?”

Akko smiled.

“So what can you tell me?” Diana said. “Magic is an uncommon hobby. Can you at least tell me what made you interested in such a thing?”

“Hmm.” Akko was relieved to have a question she could actually answer, but that corner of her mind was a jumble of thoughts. “I guess my interest started years ago. Back before – before stuff happened. My school used to have cultural assemblies, and they’d invite all different kinds of people in – musicians, dancers, people who’d bring in a bunch of animals to showcase – and they’d entertain us. And then, this one time-” Akko tried not to get lost in the memory, but it was happening anyways. “This woman – she called herself a magician – came out onto the stage, and without saying anything, she pulled a rabbit out of a baseball cap – not a stupid tophat – and the crowd gasped. She let it down on the ground, where it began wandering around, exploring the gym, and then she snapped her fingers and – and it was like she hadn’t even started. From then on out, I saw the impossible time and time again. Like she didn’t even consider the rabbit to be magic. But it wasn’t just the tricks she showed us. The way she moved about on the stage, it felt like she was sharing her excitement with us. And her voice had so much energy to it. Her hair – so red, like it was on _fire_ – and it was, at one point – and she was so beautiful – and-” Akko realized she was gushing. It was time to reel it in. “And she was so young – so young that it was so easy to place myself in her shoes, as though that were what my future could be.”

Diana had been listening intently through Akko’s rambling, and now seemed to hesitate.

“This woman you’re talking about... she is Shiny Chariot, no?”

If they hadn’t been sitting down, Akko might have grabbed Diana’s hands and jumped up and down in excitement.

“ _You know her?_ ” Akko said, instead settling for grabbing Diana’s hands (the Unmelting Snowman getting dropped) and not jumping up and down. “You know Shiny Chariot?”

“Yes,” Diana said once she had freed her hands and retrieved the card. “I recall seeing a performance of hers, once.”

“Isn’t she amazing?”

“She had a way with children.”

“You’re saying that like you weren’t one – like you weren’t entranced by her magic. Like – like you were some old grandma of one of the kids, watching the performance from the back of the room.”

“Odd that you should say such a thing,” Diana said. “Because I remember that day clearly for a _different_ reason. My mother was there. In the gymnasium. Sitting next to my homeroom teacher. I was both shocked and confused to see her, and when I asked her about it that evening, she refused to explain herself. I never heard a reason from my teacher, either.”

“See?” Akko nearly exploded. “Even your mother loved Chariot’s performances!”

“But Shiny Chariot is retired, now, Akko. Has been, for four years. There’s no reason to get so excited.”

“She never retired,” Akko muttered. “She went missing.”

“Same difference. Her last show sold out, and she probably had enough money to retire and was bored with performing.”

“She would never grow bored of it!”

No response was forthcoming, and Akko realized she had shouted it a little too loud. It seemed this topic wasn’t good.  Magic, in general, didn’t seem to impress Diana.

“Anyways,” Akko said, clearing her throat. “What brought you to Rastavan? You aren’t from around here, I can tell that much.”

“I was... exploring,” Diana said, curling her legs up on the couch in a very delicate manner that Akko really liked.

“This isn’t a safe place to go exploring. You’ll get yourself-” _Audience, Akko_. “-hurt. Somehow. These buildings are really old, you know. Can’t trust them not to fall on you.”

“You trust them.”

“I like living on the edge.” Akko grinned. “I can die without regrets – well, not really – but what I mean is, I’ll take on a collapsing building any time.”

“I don’t think anybody can die without regrets,” Diana said. “Not if they lived a thousand years.”

“Morbid.”

“But you’re the manager of a coffee shop. That’s an impressive start. How did you achieve that, at such a young age?”

“Luck.” Akko forced a laugh. “My parents left the country and I didn’t want to go with them-” _Couldn’t_. “-so my uncle is helping me out.  But the sooner I get out of here, the better.”

“And why is that?”

“Because coffee is yucky.”  Akko moved a little closer to her on the futon. “Smelling it all day, every day? That sucks.”

“ _Yucky_?”

“Yep.”

And, _uh-oh_ , Diana did not look impressed. Was she one of those people who drank it religiously? Was there a coffee religion? What were their taboos? What was their God? Did they have wars against the tea religion?

“You work here,” Diana said, eyes narrowing, “and you don’t drink coffee?”

Alarms went off in Akko’s head. “Hahaha. I’m just kidding. I love coffee, but enough about me. You said you were exploring here? That can’t be the full story. There are much better places to go exploring.”

“I’m... a photographer.” Diana picked up the pi book again, and flipped it open to a random page. “I was looking for a subject. There are so many derelict buildings here. It has great potential.”

“For pictures.”

“Yes, for pictures. What else?” Diana closed the book again, though a finger remained against the edges of the pages, as though she might reopen it any moment. “Actually, I was reading in the paper the other day – there’s a government proposal to demolish Rastavan. They would rebuild it with all the works. Schools, a supermarket, a public pool, a library, new houses.”

Akko kept a stone cold face. That was one of the greatest contributors to the recent influx in unhappy-people-hurting-unhappy-people in the area. With Big F gone, things threatened to get worse. Her friends – whether through greed of their own or some other factor – showed no interest in bailing before Rastavan went to the hounds, and so she couldn’t very well leave early either. But Big F would be back soon – he had to know what was going on. In fact, he was probably working to fix all the problems right now (either that, or making lots of money, and money solved problems).

So Akko diverted the conversation away from Rastavan, and they continued talking. Every few minutes, she would inch closer on the futon – subtle, in her eyes – but it wasn’t actually subtle – far from it – and the conversation was going so well that Diana smiled on two more separate occasions.

When Akko’s confidence was at an all-time high, there was a knock on the door. She jumped up, irritated by the distraction.

From the other side of the door came Sucy’s voice. “I hope I’m not about to see something unpleasant.”

With as much subtle panic as possible, Akko rushed to open the door.

“Sucy, don’t scare her off – and don’t mention the delivery – what are you doing with that? – put that vial down this instant – _no, not there_ – okay, fine – now, where are her clothes?”


	3. Tough Guys

They had parted ways shortly thereafter, and maybe Akko should have tried to prolong Diana’s stay, or get her cell number, or feel her hair – seriously, Akko had an inexplicable curiosity relating to Diana’s hair – but ultimately, when Diana said she had to get going, Akko’s improvisation skills had failed her.

And that made for a very miserable following day. In the morning, she didn’t want to wake up – hoping and hoping to dream of Diana, but with no such luck – and she didn’t want to open the store after she’d finally gotten up – it was a sort of unexpected melancholic feeling, losing something she’d never had – but she had to distribute Sucy’s delivery, so she reluctantly dragged herself around, daydreaming of Diana’s face, hair, voice, and really, everything about her.

When Wire came in for his muffins, she could barely smile at him.

“All good?” he asked.

“Just tired.”

Wire was Big F’s second-hand man, and for good reason. He was bad-ass. If there was only one person she could be friends with in all of Rastavan – sorry Lotte, sorry Sucy – then it was him, hands down. He was a tall man who always wore shades and a large trench coat. His profession? Knife salesman. Yes, the inside of his trenchcoat held hundreds of knives.

And the origin of his name, Wire? He wore a barbed wire necklace. Yes, barbed. No, nobody understood how he hadn’t cut his neck into a mangled mess a thousand times over – possibly not even himself – and yes, nobody fudged with him because of it.

“Here for my muffins,” he said.

She passed him his bag of muffins from under the counter, which Sucy had prepared and delivered the other day. There were twelve more bags of muffins left to distribute, but usually they were all picked up by early afternoon. If she still hadn’t gotten over Diana by then, maybe she would close shop early and find something to tide herself over.

Wire paid for his order – unfortunately, it was all paper bills, which didn’t carry the same weight – literally – as coins – and then he left.

The next customer in line stopped Akko’s breath. She’d been so focused on Wire’s overwhelming bad-ass presence that she hadn’t even noticed.

The angel had returned.

She had a camera hanging from around her neck – a big and fancy one, probably with an incomprehensible name, too – but otherwise looked exactly the same as yesterday (well, aside from a different set of thousand dollar clothes), and Akko breathed a sigh of relief. It didn’t hit her so hard this time. Diana’s beauty was an accepted part of the universe, now, and Akko could appreciate it rather than be swept away into a fire of lust.

She was a little more in control this time around, and that meant she could be more aggressive.

Diana looked around the shop and frowned. “You sell muffins here?”

“No.”

“But the man before me-”

“Yes.”

“Then I’d like-”

“No.”

“What?”

“Uh. Special order. Close friends only. Sorry.”

Diana humphed. “Fine. I’ll have that terrible drink you gave me last time.”

“Eh? The sugary one? Not going to spit it out this time?” Akko teased.

“I’m prepared.”

“I’m surprised. You came back. Does that mean you found a good subject?”

Their eyes met – Diana’s sexy, dark blue eyes – and Akko was entirely ready for the response:  _ Yes, you. _

“No.”

Darn.

“That’s unfortunate,” Akko said as she set to work with the knobs and dials on the machines. “But I guess you haven’t given up?”

“I wouldn’t give up so easily.”

“Oh. I never asked – are you a professional, or is this a hobby thing?”

“Hobby. Not many people can take pictures for a living.”

“Then, what do you do for a living?”

“I... I-”

“I know! You’re a model, aren’t you? You have to be, since you’re so pretty.”

“A model?” Diana looked lost for words. “That would be-”

“No need to be modest,” Akko said, handing her the massive cup of poison. “That’s six eighty, please.”

Diana took a deep breath – a faint blush on her face present – and then raised a brow. “After yesterday? You’re lucky I didn’t get seriously injured. This is on the house.”

Then she took her drink and found herself a seat, without once looking back. Had Akko said something to offend her? Thankfully, the shop was empty, so she didn’t need to end the conversation there. She followed, collapsing into the seat opposite of Diana.

“You’re going to bankrupt me, you know,” Akko said.

“You’ll survive.” Diana looked around the shop. “You don’t have any employees, do you?”

“They would bankrupt me, too.”

Diana took a sip of her drink – and though she’d earlier sounded confident, it was a pathetically small sip, and she grimaced afterwards.

“I never got a satisfactory answer out of you the other day,” Diana said, before Akko could say anything. “Why magic? I understand Shiny Chariot had a lasting effect on you, but to go from admiring to imitating – that step requires an amount of determination most people don’t have.  They enjoy their role as consumer, rather than creator. It would be like a reader becoming the author of their favourite book series. All the excitement and anticipation is replaced with stress and self-doubt.”

“Someone needs to do it.  Um. Like you said – creators and consumers. If nobody created, then there would be nothing to consume, and that wouldn’t be good, would it?”

“Yes, that is the most logical answer.” Diana took another sip of her coffee. This was followed by several seconds of the most impassive face Akko had ever seen.  It was an impressive resistance to the regret she had to be feeling.  “But I have trouble believing that’s your answer.”

This was odd. Akko had chosen the answer to please Diana, but it had been denied. Diana had seen through the response and, just like needing to prove her magic, Akko realized she was being challenged. The truth wasn’t so easy to put into words, but she would try, for Diana.

“Hmm. Because it makes people happy?”

“Pardon me for saying, but that kind of reasoning is worrisome,” Diana said. “The happiness of strangers isn’t something one can worry themselves about – not when there are people struggling to get by on a day-to-day basis.”

Akko smiled, because she couldn’t not, in a situation like this. “I just think there should be more happiness in the world.  Even just a tiny bit.  Don’t you think so?  I remember after the assembly, after I first saw Shiny Chariot, as we were all going back to our classes, the halls were filled with laughter and shouting and everyone was smiling. Every single person – every kid, every teacher, every parent. They were all happy.  For the rest of the day, the teachers were less strict, the pretty girls less intimidating, and the classes less boring. I’m even ninety-nine point nine nine percent sure the food lady gave me a larger serving than usual – and she hated me. It was like – like Shiny Chariot had left some of her magic behind at the school – like it had taken root in our hearts. And I thought – I thought,  _ isn’t that beautiful? _ To be able to bring such joy to someone’s everyday life. To be able to make things better and the future brighter.”

The words sounded good to Akko’s own ears, but Diana didn’t say anything.  It was then that she had to acknowledge that she was being a little untruthful.  These were all thoughts from the past.

Akko sighed.  “Well, I say that, but I’m not a creator, and I don’t want to be.  Not anymore.  Magic is just a hobby to me.  For a while, I wanted to become a magician just like Shiny Chariot.  But... well, dreams are just that, aren’t they?  My mother had said as much, though I ignored her.  When you grow up, you have to face reality.  But I’ll never stop admiring Shiny Chariot, for how she affected my childhood, and one day, I want to find her and thank her for at least that much.”

“Perhaps it’s a good thing you abandoned such a dream,” Diana said, staring into her cup.  “Such a solution is flawed, and to take such a task upon yourself is foolish. Happiness should be something one seeks out with their own abilities, rather than having it handed to them. And if they should fail to find such happiness, then that is to weigh upon themselves, not the shoulders of a complete stranger.”

This questionable claim gave way to silence.

Akko took the time to reflect on what she’d said, wondering if she’d given a good enough answer to Diana.  Could she have been more eloquent?  Why did this difference in opinions have to arise?  Did it even matter?  It had been a long time since she’d wanted to become like Shiny Chariot.  Now, such a thing was impossible.

Diana, too, must have been lost in thought, because she forgot what kind of coffee was in her cup, and drank more than the dainty little sips she’d had earlier. In an almost-repeat of the other day, she winced and pulled the cup back as a couple drops fell down her chin. Akko laughed and handed her a napkin.

“You don’t need an excuse to come and chill in my room, you know.” And then Akko hesitated. Diana returning had to count for something, and the natural follow up to such a line was too tempting to refuse. “And you don’t need an excuse to strip for me, either.”

“Akko!” Diana hissed.

Either she didn’t like how crude Akko was being, or maybe, Akko could hope, the thought was taken a step farther by Diana’s imagination, and she was embarrassed by it. Either way, her blush was cute, and Akko smiled sweetly in response. Hearing her name from Diana’s lips was nice, even if it was in outrage.

“Just thought you oughtta know,” Akko added.

“That’s entirely inappropriate.” Diana stood up. “I don’t know how it works around these parts, but the rest of us have tact.”

And for a second time in two days, Diana left without finishing her drink.

Akko groaned.

A rejection. She had expected it to fluster Diana a little, and then they would continue the conversation without so much as missing a beat. Akko would get her cell number – or perhaps be invited over to the castle where Diana lived (because, as it was so obvious, Diana was a model  _ and _ princess) – and the rest would be history.

But this had obviously been a case of getting way too far ahead of herself, and now she needed to swallow her disappointment.

At least she had been more aggressive than last time. Now she knew Diana wasn’t interested, and she could forget about the blonde. She could forget about the stern girl with a fitting amount of pride, who always challenged Akko and who had long, flowing hair – probably soft and nice smelling, too – and a perfect chest – larger than Akko’s, but not too big – and pale, smooth skin which had all been on display as she had stripped from her coffee stained clothing-

Okay. Starting  _ now _ , she would move on. There was stuff to do. Accounting ledgers to update. News to read. Markets to watch. Running a coffee shop wasn’t easy, especially when it sold special muffin orders.

The abandoned cup caught her eye, and she pulled it closer. Such a waste. Of time, effort, and money. Taking a moment to find the edge where Diana’s lips had touched, Akko took a small sip.

_ Terrible. _

At least she got herself a second-hand kiss. It was a shame she’d never actually get Diana’s lips.

Aaaand, starting  _ now _ , for realsies this time. She was done and over with Diana.

Standing up, Akko noticed a commotion outside.

Two men from Croix’s gang had cornered someone against the glass of her coffee shop. Not just any someone. The person Akko was completely, entirely, utterly, without-a-doubt over was cowering against the glass as the men hovered over her. She had her hands protecting her camera – a mistake in priorities. Gangsters didn’t care about expensive cameras – not when there was a pretty girl in sight.

Akko rushed out.

“Oy,” she shouted, putting herself between them and Diana. They still towered her, but if Akko had anything in abundance, it was false bravado. “Back off. Leave my customers alone.”

“Hey, it’s Lil’ Echo,” one of the men said. “Tha’s big words coming from a small mouth like yours-”

“You don’t be messing with my people,” Akko said. “Big F won’t be happy if he hears about it.”

“Yo – d’as a bluff.” The other man put a hand to his coat. Was he carrying? Probably. Man, where was Wire when you needed him? “Big F is gone. Probably de-comp-osing in sum’ ditch somewhere.”

“You wanna bet?” Akko said. “Croix is scared of a dead man?”

The men exchanged glances.

“She ain’t scared o’ nobody,” one of them said. “Jus’ you wait. We always get what we want.”

Without a word exchanged between them, the men turned and left. Akko watched them for a minute, until they were out of sight. She could only hope it wasn’t Diana that they wanted.

“Ugh.” Akko deflated. “I can’t believe their nerve. I’m trying to run a business, here.”

“Akko,” Diana whispered.

But Akko was too cool to care (or so she told herself). She examined the glass where one of the men had pressed his palm when he’d had Diana cornered. Window cleaner was expensive, and the paper towel, too. Again, it boiled down to time, effort, and money.

“Thank you.” Diana stepped closer – too close, especially after the way they had just parted. “Do you know them?”

And Akko had a limit to her self-perceived coolness, so she finally acknowledged Diana. “Just some punks. New to the area – think they own the place.”

“You mentioned a Big F. Who’s that?”

“He’s a friend of mine. Has some rep’ in this part of town.”

Diana frowned. “Rep?”

And Akko made the mistake of meeting her eyes, and she realized it wasn’t so easy as to declare that she no longer liked Diana. It was frustrating, because the confused and vulnerable look in Diana’s eyes made Akko’s heart backflip. Their current surroundings – a gum layered sidewalk next to a pothole-filled street and a shabby coffee shop – felt so much more intimate than it should have.

“Reputation – but, uh, not in the normal sense of the word,” Akko said. “Um – like, people respect him. He has the power to make stuff happen, like a politician... bad comparison, actually. Nobody respects politicians. Like... Oh – I know – like a cop – no, wait –  _ respect _ .” And she knew she was rambling, but her mouth had no filters and this was probably better than any other words that her lips might have formed. “Hmm. What do people respect?”

“People respect cops.”

“Oh. Do they? Then that. Big F is like a cop. A shady one, who takes bribes and turns off the cameras during interviews so he can beat the perp up. But only if the perp is really bad, which is usually the case around here.”

“Rastavan really is dangerous,” Diana said after a pause. “Why do you still live here? Surely you can do better? If your uncle set you up here, just ask him to help you move.”

“Akko!” From across the street, her friend Lotte waved to her. Lotte was a quiet girl, so it was surprising to hear her shout so loud, and wave so energetically. Though it was reassuring to know she had been nearby, in case things had gone south with Croix’s men. “Big trouble!”

Ah, there it was. The explanation Akko did not want to hear.

At the same moment, a rusty light blue truck drove up the road and stopped between them. The window rolled down and Sucy poked her head out. “Load up, you’ve got a job to do.”

Akko turned to Diana. “You’re too pretty to walk around these parts,” she said, ignoring the earlier question. It hurt, but when did the truth not? Akko told herself – even if it did feel like a lie – that she would rather Diana be safe, than to be nearby.

Again, Diana looked a little flustered, and Akko was happy she could have that effect. But the truck idling on the road was a reminder that nothing more was possible. Anyone who got too close to Akko might get burnt, no matter how hard she tried to prevent it.

“Don’t come back here,” Akko said.

Walking to the truck, she found she couldn’t not look back. Maybe she had expended all her coolness earlier. Diana was watching her with wide eyes, and her hand – Akko swears she wasn’t imagining it – rose slightly, as if to reach out to her.

And then Akko hopped into the truck and slammed the door. Sucy, much like Amanda (and probably influenced by, too) – had her own speed limit in these parts. The truck, affectionately named Shooting Star, left with a roar.

  
  



	4. House Fire

“What’s the deal?” Akko said.

“We’re going in for a burning.” Lotte paused to put on her seatbelt – not necessary, with Sucy’s driving. “Amanda has already started the cleaning.”

“We could’ve done the cleaning.”

“We could’ve,” Lotte agreed, but she left it at that.

Akko waited a few blocks before asking, “Where’re we burning?”

“Some guys who left Big F for Croix. I don’t know if you’ve heard of them. Marcus and Markem.”

“Okay, yeah. I think Big F mentioned them, shortly before he left. Ex sailors?”

“Yeah. Those are the guys.”

“You said big trouble. This only sounds like minor trouble.”

“I didn’t think you would come, otherwise. It looked like you were busy.”

“You really need to trust me more.” Akko focused her attention on the road. “That girl was nobody.”

“Maybe to you, but it sure didn’t look like you were a nobody to her.”

“Eh? Really?” Akko nearly bounced in her seat, before realizing she didn’t care.

“I would think so.”

Lotte knew what she was talking about. In many ways, she was the most valuable out of the three of them. Sure, Akko liked numbers, and Sucy liked science, but it was Lotte who liked people – and an understanding of people in general went a long ways. She was a strong judge of character, with an uncanny intuition for people’s motives, and, almost without fail, meeting someone meant becoming friends with them. Because of this, she had connections everywhere. With contacts in the police department, the newspaper, and in many companies around town, she had a real grasp on the nation’s situation.

And most people who met her never realized who they were talking to. She had hobbies that would scare any normal person witless. And Akko was  _ not _ talking about the abundance of erotica Lotte had published online (Lotte never tried to hide that one).

Sucy and Lotte were, in many respects, complete opposites, and it was surprising that Lotte had chosen to pursue a friendship with someone like Sucy. It made their trio very unique, and if Sucy and Lotte were said to be counterbalances, then that left Akko lost somewhere in the middle – not as the group’s voice of reason, nor with any semblance of normalcy, but just as someone with a tad bit of insanity, selfishness, and morality.

Lotte had once said she was the glue, keeping them together and reining them in before insanity took over, and while Akko had expressed her own doubts about playing such a role, she thought it nice that such a niche existed for her, in the group.

The Shooting Star began to slow down, and it refocused Akko’s attention on the matters at hand.

Sucy pulled over, parking half on the road, half on the sidewalk. As she fiddled with the radio, Akko got out of the truck and examined the place. The building was a single house – not an apartment, thankfully – and it had boarded up windows, missing shingles on the roof, and overgrown grass out front. The epitome of Rastavan housing.

“What do you think?” Lotte said.

“It’s good.”

From the back of the truck, Akko retrieved a red gas can. She shook it and found it was only half full. That would be enough, though. Places like these hardly even needed help. Undoing the cap, she paused to inhale – that euphoric smell wasn’t one she’d ever forget, but it had to be enjoyed in small quantities. Intoxicants were bad. Who knew?

She began soaking the house’s exterior walls. Tension was building in the pit of her stomach – since the moment Sucy had shown up with the Shooting Star it was like Akko had been assaulted by a fever. Her eyes were locked on the gasoline pouring into the grass and against the panelling. It was something she would never grow bored of.

There was nobody out on the street, but still, Lotte watched. She had a hand in her pocket, but there wouldn’t be any shooting anyone. Probably.

Sucy was still in the truck. She was like that. She had no interest in burning buildings, unless it was for research purposes. The precision flames of a Bunsen burner were more for her. It was reassuring that, in the small chance an unfriendly passed by, Sucy was at the wheel and they would be ready to make a quick escape. It was less reassuring to know that if they took too long to get back to the vehicle, the great escape would consist of only one person.

“When did Amanda start?” Akko said. “Is she nearly done?”

The house door swung open before anyone could answer the question, and Amanda’s crew stepped out. Amanda herself was an obnoxious and unruly girl who always wore bright red sneakers and always got in Akko’s way. She had wanted to take over the coffee shop when Big F left, and now she was as bitter as ever. Of course, someone or other (Sucy) had taught her the word ‘nepotism’, and now that was Amanda’s new favourite word.

“God,” she said, stepping down the concrete stairs. “This box must weigh a ton. There was this jar of coins in the back of their closet – thought I might grab it, in case they’re collectables. Oh, hello Echo. Didn’t see you there.”

Akko set the gas can aside. Certain conversations required her full attention. This was one of them.

“Wow,” she said, eyeing the box. “Stealing a toaster. Making Team Polaris proud, huh?”

Team Polaris was a group of thieves that Amanda idolized. Four years ago, they had stolen billions of e-coins – yeah, very secure, Mr Government – and, in protest, moved them to a publicly viewable wallet without ever spending one cent of it. Unfortunately, the government caught them, and that was the end of what might have been so much more. The key to the funds was lost forever, and Team Polaris had only succeeded in slowing adoption of the new cryptocurrency by a few months.

Despite Team Polaris’ defeat, Amanda still admired them. Akko didn’t quite understand this, but she knew it was an easy target.

“Shuddup,” Amanda said. “Everyone has to start somewhere. I wouldn’t be here if I was as amazing as them.”

“A shame,” Akko said. “And what’s this about amazing? I think you’re getting a little mixed up, here. Robin Hood was amazing – he helped the poor. What did Team Polaris do? They never put a single dollar to use – not for themselves, or other people. You can’t call them selfish and you can’t call them selfless – they’re nobodies who ultimately accomplished nothing.”

“That’s because they had to disappear,” Amanda growled. “The mark of a successful thief is when they’ve got so much heat they can’t do nothing but hide. If you want to talk about nobodies who accomplished nothing, then you don’t need to look any further than Shitty Chariot. She sucked so bad she disappeared herself.”

“She accomplished lots! She made people happy! All Team Polaris did was deal out a lot of false hope and disappointment. They-”

The honk of a horn broke through their argument.

Sucy leaned out of the truck window. “Break it up you two lovebirds. There’s work to be done.”

Amanda’s box must actually have been heavy, because without another word, she carried it to the truck and dropped it in the back. Behind her, Constanze and Jasminka followed closely, with boxes of their own. Constanze's box was overflowing with electronics, and Jasminka’s with miscellaneous items, including what Akko hoped was not a jar of pickled cucumbers.

Akko resumed pouring gasoline, like a good girl.

“Well,” Amada said, “the place is cleaned, anyways. Light’er up.”

Akko tossed the can aside and took out her matchbox. She lit a match, watched it a moment, and then pinched the flame out. Something was off, and she wasn’t sure if it was herself, or outside factors. The others were giving her an odd look, and finally she turned to Lotte.

“Do you want the honours?” she said.

Lotte stepped away from the road and grabbed the matchbox from Akko. “Do I ever!”

And they said Akko was the crew’s pyro.

Lotte winced when the match hit the wet grass.  The house erupted in bright, hot flames, and she stumbled back a few steps.  Akko, however, took a few steps forward.  The heatwave was rejuvenating.  For some people, jumping into a cold lake in the heat of summer was how they refreshed themselves. For Akko, it was a nice, hot fire. She didn’t much care for being cold.

She also didn’t care much for Marcus and Markem’s loss. They hadn’t strictly bought the place – it had been given to them by Big F – and they were traitors. There was no mercy for traitors. People had to stick together, and harsh punishment was a good motivator to do so. Croix would probably get them moved into one of the blocks on the east end of the neighbourhood under her control. If she was anything like Big F – and there were rumours she was – then she would take care of her own.

This thought process would have been impossible before she had abandoned her dreams and grew up, but now it was second nature.  It felt like everything she did was accruing a karmic debt which she would never be able to pay off.  Aged thoughts of wanting to bring happiness to the people around her simply weren’t enough.  One day, maybe, hopefully, Atsuko would fix this.

“Mmm.” Akko turned around to warm her back up. “Did they have a vehicle?”

“No,” Amanda said. “That was it.”

“No guns?” Lotte asked, eyeing the boxes of loot.

“No guns.”

“Boring.”

The five of them – plus Sucy farther back in the truck – watched for a minute in silence.

“This place went up nicely,” Akko said, as part of the inner structure collapsed with a crash. “Come to think of it – where are Marcus and Markem?”

“With Croix, meeting Wire,” Amanda said. “They think negotiating for territory is something.”

“That sounds pretty naive. I thought Croix would be smarter than that.” Akko pulled her cell phone from her pocket – a one-of-a-kind product courtesy of Constanze – and dialled. “There’s a fire, fourteen forty Fen Hat Road. A house has gone up in flames.”

The operator tried asking for a name, but Akko hung up. That about wrapped up business. She wasn’t interested in verifying Amanda’s claim of having found a jar of coins. Not at all. There were more important things to do. Like leaving this area.

“You called it in already?” Lotte said. “I thought we could have chocolate bananas.”

Jasminka nodded vehemently in agreement.

“Not today,” Akko said. “Sorry, but the wind is too strong.”

That was a lie. She had a bad feeling about this whole venture, and wanted to be gone as soon as possible.

  
  



	5. Through Glass

Diana didn’t listen very well.  Back again – this time settling for her dark roast, which Akko didn’t screw up – she was standing by the counter, making conversation between customers.  Akko did not mind this, as much as she tried, but she also couldn’t understand  _ why _ it was happening.

Diana hadn’t liked Akko’s flirting, she didn’t like Rastavan, and Akko had even told her to stay away – yet it was like  half of the events of the other day hadn ’t  happened. There was the small possibility that Diana had fallen for her after being saved (in which case, Akko owed Croix’s men), but that was wis h ful thinking.

“I heard there was a fire near here, yesterday,” Diana said.

Akko nodded, still trying to figure out if she was being given a second chance, and if so, what her strategy should be – or even if she  _ wanted _ a second chance.

In fact, she was growing more and more sure she didn’t want a second chance.  Pretty girls were meant to be  appreciated from afar, because, usually, they had terrible personalities that would shatter the illusion of beauty and perfection, or – as Akko knew from prior attempts – they would quic kly  learn about Akko’s true nature and tendencies, and drop her like a hot potato.  And that only ended in hurt for Akko.

“The fire started  s hortly after you left,” Diana added in a way that couldn’t be misinterpreted.

“Yeah.”  Akko took her time rinsing her cloth in the sink before returning to wipe some counters.  “I actually saw it on my way to help my friend, Lotte.”

“She said there was big trouble – what was that about?”

“Computers,” Akko said as soon as it came to mind.  Big F had taught her a thing or two about them.  “She was supposed to video chat with her mother, but her computer wasn’t working.  She and her mom are really close, and, you know, living in the Rastavan, her mom would assume the worst if they missed a scheduled call.”

“But-” And Diana frowned.  “There was the other girl, the one who washed my clothing – Sucy, was it?  She said you had a job to do.”

And all of a sudden, Akko was aware that it was an interrogation, and not a conversation.

A saving grace – the bell chimed and a customer entered.  The final nail in the coffin – the customer was a regular, and he was here for his two brown bags of muffins.  Eighty dollars.  Th is exchange occurred under Diana’s watchful stare.  As the custom er left, and Akko put away the money, she foresaw  a very intense line of questioning  in her near future.  

“Can you not?” Akko suggested, focusing hard on the counter.

Diana shook her head.  “You  need to explain. ”

“ _ Please _ ,” Akko said.  “ Please don’t  force it.   I like your company, and you can’t hate mine, if you’re here, so don’t wreck all this.”

“Wreck it?  I want to know the truth.  That’s it.  You are going to tell me exactly what was in those bags.”

Akko delayed a few seconds.  Diana’s expression did not change.  She wasn’t going to drop it.  So Akko did the only thing she could do – go on the offensive.

“This is the third day in a row you ’ve come here ,” Akko said.  “Did you find a subject for your pictures yet, or d id you just want to be molested by guys?”

Diana tensed.  “That’s-”

“What’s your deal, Diana?  You keep coming back here, and-”  The bell chimed again .   Akko had not been paying attention.  “- _ oh fridge _ .”

A woman walked in, flanked by four familiar men.  Light purple hair, green eyes, long eyelashes, and a sharp jaw – she’d never met Croix, but those were her characteristics.  And, quite frankly, she had those evil eyes Wire had warned she would have.  Akko hadn’t really believed it at the time – how could someone have  _ evil _ eyes? – but there was no other way to put it – she looked constantly angry and it was as though she were analyzing and silently judging everything in her sight.  This weird evilness was  enhanced by her eyeshadow, and that meant it had to have been intentional.

It was official – Akko was prince charming, Diana the princess, and Croix the evil witch.  In the evil witch’s company were the two men from yesterday, plus Marcus and Markem.  They were outnumbered, and yet again, Akko would save the day.  Or so she desperately hoped.

“Language,” Croix tutted, despite  ‘ f ridge’ being a perfectly acceptable word.  Her men spread around the room.

“What do you want?” Akko said.

From under the counter,  she retrieved her handgun but kept it out of sight.  That did not help the situation, though.  She was proficient in fire, not firearms.  If only Lotte were here.

“To talk business , ” Croix said.

“Big F is out of town – it’s Wire you want.”

“Big F thinks too small.  He’s getting old.  And Wire has already proven himself useless to me ,”  Croix said, before pointing to Diana.  “Girl.  Out.”

Diana set her coffee aside – Akko had a premonition that, again, she would not get to finish it – and spoke.

“Make me.”

_ Ah _ .  What was this?  Bravery in the face of even greater danger than yesterday.  Maybe Akko was right and she really did want something to happen to her.  An emo girl from a rich family in the upper-class part of town.  Cutting herself just didn’t cut it  anymore , so she was looking for more – except that wasn’t possible, because Akko had seen her arms – and shoulders and back and  _ almost _ everything – darned mirror – and there wasn’t a single scar or mar anywhere on her body.

Akko put the gun  away and  quickly stepped around  to pull Diana behind the counter.

“My mentally ill cousin,” she said, abandoning her earlier prince and princess fantasy.  “Sorry.  You can just pretend she isn’t here.”

Croix eyed the two of them.  “Maybe I came to the wrong place.  I heard better things of you than this.”

From who? Akko wanted to know.  It wasn’t like Big F would have mentioned her to anyone, and everyone else knew her as a coffee-and-muffin seller.  It was probably an ego-stroking tactic, before Croix said:

“Join the dark side.”

And, because Akko had heard the words spoken aloud, she responded in the only possible way.  “ _ Excuse me _ ?”

Croix shrugged.  “I’m certainly not going to convince you we’re the good guys.  Besides, I highly doubt you have a particularly stringent moral compass.”

“Well...”  The woman had a point.

“Join us.  We’re the new power in town, and we won’t burn your place down if you ever decide to leave us.”

Probably because they would resort to straight up murder.

Akko fished a set of keys out of her pocket – the four men in the room had their guns out and pointed at her in a second – and gave them to Diana.

“Go  in my room,” she said.  “I need to talk business.”

And she expected another ‘make me’, but Diana happily took the keys and entered the back room.  Akko even heard the click of the lock afterwards.  She really couldn’t get a read on that girl.

“You live back there?” Croix said, nodding towards the now locked door.  “And you let her back there?”

“Sure,” Akko said.

Croix pressed her fingers against her forehead.  “As you wanted, then, Echo.  Let us talk business.  For starters, I could provide you with a real house.”

“I don’t want one.  A yard, though, with a fire pit.”

“Done.”

“Oh.  Okay.”  Akko paused.  This was just a delaying tactic – that’s all it was.  “Money.”

“What do you think you would be doing for us?”

“I don’t mean to invest,” Akko said, lowering her voice.  “Money to spend.”

“On?”

“An identity.”

Croix was silent.

Akko had asked for too much.  Somehow, although she was absolutely not, under any circumstances whatsoever, going to accept the offer, Akko was upset.

Finally, Croix spoke.  “You’re Zapped?”

Akko nodded.

“Big F’s assistant is Zapped.”  The woman began pacing the room between her men.  “Makes perfect sense.”

“It really does, if you think about it.”

“No,” Croix snapped.  She stopped to take a deep breath.  “No, it does not.  But considering your prior success, I won’t argue it.  So you want an identity?  Why?  To leave the country?  To get an education?  A bank account?  A vehicle?”

It was hard to explain to a dangerous criminal that she wanted a chance to dream again – even if it wasn’t dreams of illusionists, but of accountants – so she voiced another thought.  “It’s not about what I want now – it’s about freedom of choice.  I want to live life like my ancestors did.

“Your ancestors didn’t live with trackers.  You already have what you want,” Croix said.  “A new identity, free of a criminal record, would mean you’d become one of them.  Tagged and tracked like sheep.  This, here, is true freedom.”

_ This is Heck – complete with the fire. _

But maybe both options were equally as bad.  Technology was fickle.  It gave and took away so easily.  The government had thrived on new technologies and improving every aspect of life until, suddenly, everyone was a tuple in a database, and they couldn’t go anywhere without customized ads showing up on billboards.  The exception to this was rural areas, and  shady places like Rastavan.  Neighbourhoods on the edge of town, where the government’s influence hadn’t yet fully reached.  

Most residents here still had their trackers but just didn’t connect to the  N etwork – it wasn’t mandatory because there weren’t any schools or large commercial buildings nearby.  Being Zapped was an extreme, and it was generally voluntary.  Because, after all, there was no returning from being Zapped, and the government wanted the trackers online, especially for people who liked to cause trouble.

Once a fried chip in a neck, always a fried chip in a neck.  False identities couldn’t be made; the government tracked every pregnancy and birth – long ago was the age of home births and midwifery.  They kept close watch on you from the minute you were born until the minute you died.  And as for the monarchy?  They didn’t involve themselves in politics, beyond bestowing honours and appointing prime ministers.  Nobody knew what they thought about the sudden change in governing, since the turn of the twenty-first century.

“Are  _ you _ Zapped?” Akko asked.

Croix shook her head.  “Of course not.   I still have need for e-coins.  We don’t do everything with physical money.  But this situation of yours isn’t impossible.  We can put some resources on the problem.  And we  _ will _ , because even without your case, there are many people who’d be willing to pay for a new identity.  It’s profitable.  But for now, you need to face the facts.  When was the last time you  spoke  with Big F?”

Akko’s silence was more incriminating than she would have liked.

“The government has him,” Croix said.  “That’s the circle of life.  He’s out, so new comes in.  We’re the new.  Without us, there would be no one to defend Rastavan from the government’s demolition plan.  So think about it.  It’s the natural procession, and you would do good not to miss out.”

She reached into her pockets and pulled out a bundle of paper bills tied together by an elastic.  When she threw it, Akko instinctively caught.

“Sorry about your windows,” Croix said – and for a moment, Akko thought she was talking about the handprints Marcus and Markem got on them yesterday, but then the woman snapped her fingers.

And Akko was right about Croix apologizing on Marcus and Markem’s behalf, but she’d gotten the rest wrong.  The two men raised their semi-automatics and, for a deafening couple of seconds, unloaded their clips into the glass and the empty street beyond.  The glass shattered – it didn’t really have much else it could do in such a situation – and Akko dropped to the ground, putting her hands over her head.

By the time she’d gotten the courage to stand back up, Croix and her men were gone, and there was a lot of sweeping left to do.  On the bright side, Akko thought, examining the paper bills, she’d been given ten thousand for an eight thousand replacement job.  That was profit.

She checked the streets before knocking on the back door.  There was no response, obviously.

“It’s me, Akko,” she said.  “They’re gone.  Listen – I know you’ve heard some ugly stuff, but – well – don’t lock me out of my room, pretty please?”

And the door opened before she had to try ‘open, sesame!’ or ‘abracadabra!’ – not that she would have tried them.  She was too mature for stuff like that.  In her childhood, she had wasted enough time trying to get them to work after seeing Shiny Chariot.

“You’re alive,” Diana said, peeking through.  She sounded both relieved and surprised.  Her eyes lingered on the broken glass beyond.

“Sorry – didn’t mean to worry you.  Listen – the stuff I said – and what she said – is true, but I’m-”

“I didn’t hear any of it,” Diana said.

“-not actually that bad –  _ what _ ?”

“I didn’t listen at the door, if that’s what you are thinking.”  Diana stepped aside, letting Akko in.  She then closed the door.  “Though I confess, I was tempted.  That woman did not seem like a good person.”

“You mean, because she wanted me to join the dark side and didn’t even offer me cookies?”

Diana gave her a weird look.  “I suppose her choice of words is one factor.  I hope you didn’t listen to anything she had to say.”

“Of course not.”

“Good.  Now, prior to Croix’s arrival, we were having a conversation.”

Akko winced.  She had hoped Diana  would’ve forgotten all about it.

“And during this conversation,” Diana continued, “you made some very disrespectful accusations.  I would rather believe it was my forcefulness that caused you to speak such words, than for it to have come solely from yourself.  In short, I was being nosy , a nd I apologize.  I have revised my earlier stance.  While I do not prescribe to the notion that ignorance is bliss, I shall make an exception in this case.”

“Oh.  Okay.”

Was this a  _ third _ chance?  If Diana wasn’t going to pry, then maybe Akko had truly met someone amazing.

Diana returned to the futon, s at down, and casually pull ed some blankets over her lap.  Akko approached, but something in the corner of her eye caught her attention.  The tarp that had been covering the safe was now on the floor.

“What’s in there?” Diana said, noticing her gaze.  “I was curious.”

“It’s not mine.  It’s Big F’s safe.”

“ I see ,” Diana said.   She seemed to be in deep thought for a moment .  “How bad is he,  truly ?  A  crime lord , or  someone of the sort?”

Exactly like that.  “I think he’s good ,” Akko said.  “ He takes care of his family and friends.”

“I see.”  Distaste crossed  Diana’s expression, but just as quickly she seemed to recover.  “But he ’s not around.   Is it safe to stay here?  That woman was one of his enemies, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah.  But I’m not going anywhere.  If she wanted to hurt me, well, she’s had plenty of chances.  Besides, I have friends here I won’t abandon.”

“Friends.  Their names were Lotte and Sucy?”

Akko nodded.  “I’ll introduce you to Lotte, sometime.”

“That… that would be nice.  Now, you don’t have a TV here ?”

“No.”

“ Then, what do you do for entertainment?”

A rapid-fire knocking on the door interrupted  them , and before Akko could answer it, the door swung open and Lotte flew in.

“Akko, Akko, Akko!” Lotte shouted, hugging her.  “You’re okay!  Are you okay?  I was so worried.  I heard the shots and once I realized it wasn’t because of the faeries, I came as fast as I could.  It was Croix, wasn’t it?  Tell me it was her – no, don’t, I already know it was her – but tell me anyways!”

“Yeah,” came Akko’s muffled reply.

Lotte pulled away, noticing Diana for the first time.  Akko introduced them, but, as if Lotte had decided Diana wasn’t usefu l , she didn’t turn on her charm.

L ike before, Lotte was acting weird, and that meant-

“Big trouble,” she said to Akko. “Big F was arrested.”

 


	6. Cut Ties

Diana – who didn’t seem comfortable around Lotte – had quietly excused herself, and Akko – bless her, she had such a good heart – let Diana go, because family was more important.

Big F had taken care of her, taught her so much, and trusted her with things no teenager should have been trusted with, and now he was in trouble.  Even if she didn’t share his love of Rastavan, she recognized that it wasn’t just a dreary pile of brown and grey.  It was the place her friends called home, and that meant it was important.  Besides, as a Zapped, the prospect of moving was highly intimidating.

“Arrested?” Akko said, once Diana had left and it was just the two of them.  “For what?”

Lotte shrugged.  “Nothing major – it’s just part of their ploy.  Big F personally owns a few properties in Rastavan, and those are the only places remaining for the government to acquire before they can start demolition.

“You mean they already own everything else?”  Akko closed her eyes.  “Your place, Amanda’s, Sucy’s... everything?”

“Everything except this block and a few warehouses scattered around the neighbourhood.  Big F’s investment.  All his paperwork is spotless – they can’t just take it away like they did to Sucy’s landlord.”

Lotte was the most well-read of them all.  Somehow, between her faerie issues – as Akko had come to call them – gun-toting, and friend making, she’d found time to become interested in the legal field.  At the very least, she would have an idea of what was going to happen next.

“They’re going to have Big F killed in prison,” Lotte said, “and seize all his assets.”

Or maybe Lotte was just really stupid and had no idea what was going on.

Akko stepped away, as though she could run from the words.  “I – I refuse to let that happen.”

She collapsed onto her futon, painfully aware that the government wouldn’t care what she thought.  But she wouldn’t let them kill her uncle.  He had done so much for her.

“I’m sorry, Akko.  There’s not much we can do.”

“Prison break?”

It had been a desperate suggestion – the first thing that came to mind – but still, Lotte’s eyes sparkled.  “He’s at South Leaf Penitentiary.”

“We’ll make it happen.”  Akko crossed her arms and nodded.  “We’ll disappear him from his cell – a magic trick worthy of Shiny Chariot.”

 

* * *

 

She was going on a date with Diana.  A romantic date.  A lovey-dovey, hand-holding eye-googling lips-meeting sigh-inducing outing.  Onlookers would watch from afar, their jealousy palpable.

Of course, none of that was true, but that was what Akko told herself.  Still, it wouldn’t be all that bad.  Diana had told her to meet at the park, to which Akko had tried to refuse (she was busy with the planning stage of a certain prison break), but Diana had ended the call first.  Only afterwards, as Akko stared at her phone, did she wonder: how did Diana get her cell number?

And so Akko had shown up at the park and began walking around aimlessly in the cold.  She stopped at the Polaris Fountain – an old, three-tiered fountain that was cordoned off and covered in moss and plants, despite still being functional – and watched her breath.  She hated the cold even more than the government.

The Polaris Fountain had been a part of the park for so long that nobody knew its origins.  The city decided to stop servicing it because it was so old it threatened to crumble at the touch of a cloth.  All that was known was that it was a tribute to the North Star, also known as the Guiding Star, and this seemed to draw the more melancholic passersby.

Once, long ago, Shiny Chariot had performed nearby.  It had been a night spectacle, with floating lights and lots of fire.  Akko couldn’t remember who she’d seen it with, but the actual performance had been etched into her mind, an unshakable memory she now found herself reliving.

No more than five minutes later, Diana arrived, wearing a tank top and shorts, and all sweaty from jogging.  She waved to Akko and took a drink from her water bottle – Akko enjoying the view – before speaking.

“Big F is a very bad person,” Diana said, skipping any greetings.

“We’ve had this conversation already,” Akko said.  Though if it meant she could stare longer – Diana’s hair was in a ponytail, and it was really hot – then she was fine having it again, and again, and again.  “I thought you weren’t going to bug me about that stuff anymore.”

Diana took another sip, and glared at her water bottle like it had wronged her.  “I lied.  Or rather, I’m breaking the promise I made to you, because I’m concerned.  When I got home yesterday, I looked into your friends, Sucy and Lotte.”

_Uh-_ “Oh.”

“Sucy Manbavaran blew up a chemistry lab in middle school.”

Almost as bad as Akko.

“She was arrested for driving without a license four times.”

But she drove safer than everyone else in the darned town.  Somehow, thankfully, Amanda’s driving hadn’t rubbed off on her.

“Caught for illegal dumping of bio-hazardous waste.”

That was redundant.  There was no such thing as legal dumping of some of the stuff Sucy worked with, so what choice did she have?

“And her last record before she went dark was being arrested at a party with hardcore drugs.”

Yeah, and she’d probably provided.  Parties were good testing grounds for her work, when Lotte and Akko weren’t available.

Akko opened her mouth.  “That’s not good,” she said, sounding like a robot.

“Lotte Yanson.  Diagnosed schizophrenic.  She stole her father’s gun and shot up a power station because she’d thought _faeries_ told her to.”

That one was pretty inexcusable.  Usually the faeries asked for lesser things, like shooting street signs or fire hydrants.

“Following that, she tried bringing a gun to school for five consecutive days, and was ultimately expelled.”

A different one each time, but that apparently wasn’t in the database.  Only the ‘important’ details.

“Quite frankly, she’s a danger to herself and everyone around her.”

The second part of that statement was true.  It seemed the database also forgot to mention she was the most lethal shot in town.  While Wire was pure intimidation, Lotte was the cute little freckled girl you would never suspect but would still ruin your day with the old gun-up-her-skirt tactic.

“But she’s nice,” Akko said.

“ _A front_ ,” Diana countered.  “And that brings me to you.  I can’t help but wonder...”

“I confess, I make terrible coffee.  But I wouldn’t if people stopped coming back for more.”

Obviously unimpressed, Diana put her hands on her hips and waited.

“Couldn’t you just run a search on me?” Akko said.

“We both know your real name isn’t Akko.  Or Echo, for that matter.”

Ah, so she’d tried Echo, too.

Akko clenched her fists.  It was fine.  If Diana didn’t approve of her friends, then there was no chance for them to be friends.  For the millionth time, she had to move on.  She had to abandon the lovely girl who had come to her coffee shop three times to drink that terrible stuff and talk with Akko.

“Atsuko Kagari,” Akko finally said through clenched teeth.  “Figure it out yourself.”

And she turned and left.  As usual, though, she couldn’t help but take one last look back.

Diana already had her phone out.

No matter how many times Akko said she no longer cared – no matter how much of a goody-two-shoes Diana was – no matter how corrupt Akko was – no matter how incompatible they might have been – she still couldn’t convince herself she’d made the right choice.

But, there was still the chance they became mortal enemies and had hot hate-sex, right?  

Something had to give.  The other day hadn’t been enough of a release, apparently.  Giving the matchstick to Lotte had been a mistake.  There was no growing out of it.

“Atsuko!”

If she had been a dog, her ears might have perked up, and if she hadn’t already taken her one last look, she might have turned around.  But no Akko – in any of the infinite parallel universes that may or may not have existed – in her right mind – or wrong mind, as it would be for most of those hypothetical Akkos – would want to have the conversation that follows Diana reading her record.

So she picked up speed.

It, however, occurred to her too late that, whether she liked it or not, Diana had been out jogging – an unpleasant pastime that people in good shape indulged in – and there was no chance Akko could outrun an athletic, determined girl like that.

Akko tried, anyways.  And not one second after she’d started running, she heard Diana’s feet on the pavement following, and not five seconds after that, felt Diana’s grip on her shoulder, dragging her to a halt.

“Is this true?” Diana said, spinning her around and holding up her phone.

“I don’t actually know what it says, but yep.”  And how childish was she, that she needed to blink so much?  “Probably.”

“Truancy, from the start of elementary school – what were you even doing skipping school that young?”

What else? Akko wondered.  Her fascination had to start some time.

But she kept quiet.  She didn’t know what to say – or perhaps there was nothing to say.  Just like when the therapists had asked her questions, or her parents, or the police.  She couldn’t explain the urges, beyond saying her brain was defective.  She couldn’t even meet Diana’s eyes, or beautiful face, or anything, really, aside from her running shoes.

“In middle school, you burned a dissection frog, and then a bin of basketballs from the gym.”

Both had smelled bad, unsurprisingly.  She’d met Sucy after the first one, and Lotte after the second.  The flames of friendship.

“When you actually attended, your grades were passable – good, even, in math – but then, why?  Arrested on suspicion of burning a grass field – _three times_ .  And then the _coups de gras_ – you burned down _an entire school building_.”

But that last one had been less about the beautiful flames and more about the protest (well, not really, but she had used that excuse at the time).  

“What have you to say in your defence?” Diana said, as though they were back in the police headquarters four years ago.

But she wasn’t going to repeat the tears which she had thought, as a child, would protect her.  This was already a defeat, no matter what wise words she managed to craft, so she might as well go on the offensive, and make _both_ sides uncomfortable.

“You’re really pretty?” Akko said.

Diana turned away, and this allowed Akko to look up – though her gaze paused halfway, because those shorts fit so nicely.  “It’s clear you have problems.  Pyromania, as the psychiatrist wrote in your file.  But – but it’s _not_ hopeless.  You don’t have to live like this.  I know you don’t consider me a friend, but I’m here for you, Atsuko.  You need to start by leaving that environment.  It’s not good for you.  Sucy and Lotte aren’t good influences.”  Diana turned around, catching Akko admiring her hair.  Without warning, she reached out and took a hold of Akko’s hand.  “What you said, about wanting to make people happy, I believe you.  You didn’t lie about that, and even if your circumstances now are troubling, you have the capacity to do good.  So I want to help you.  I can get you a job, in town, far away from the power struggles in Rastavan.  If – if you need to, you can come live with me, until you find a place to stay.”

And they could get married and live happily ever after.

But _no_.

Something was wrong.  Somehow, she was able to look past Diana’s hands, warm – and a little sweaty – and the fact that they cupped Akko’s own – and realize that though this was reality, it wasn’t a truthful one.  Akko pushed away.  The look in Diana’s eyes, even as she did so, revealed more of the truth.  It wasn’t all concern.  There was something else.

“Nobody’s that nice,” Akko said.  She sniffed.  It was a cold, early morning.  “What do you want from me?”

“I want to help you.”

“No.  Don’t lie.”  This environment, here with Diana, was more toxic than Rastavan.  “You keep coming back to the coffee shop, but you aren’t interested in me.  I want to know the truth.”

“I never said – I never said I wasn’t interested in you, Atsuko.”

“You won’t even use my real name, now that you know my old one.”

“It’s not your old one, it’s who you are.  Even if you haven’t connected to the Network in years, it’s the name you grew up with.  The name your parents gave you.  It’s more real than any Akko or Echo.”

_Lies_.  Akko took another step back.  “I don’t buy that – and I don’t think you do either.  So is that it?  You’ve nothing else to say?”

“Atsuko...”

“Don’t come back to the coffee shop.  If you do, I’ll burn you – you know I will.  I’m messed up like that.  I get off on it.”

This time, Diana did not chase after her.


	7. Smoke Drones

Operation Save Big F had begun.

The Shooting Star was their chosen

of transport, and Sucy their chosen driver.  Though Sucy had been driving it a lot recently, the truck didn’t technically belong to her.  The vehicle was a joint project between Amanda, Constanze, and Sucy.  Amanda had acquired it and was their main test driver, while Constanze and Sucy worked on augmentations and the such.

Today, the Shooting Star would be their getaway vehicle, and thus was packed to the brim with clever stuff, half of which Sucy had refused to explain to Akko.  That meant it was very, very dangerous.

There were more familiar items in the vehicle, however, such as explosives (courtesy of Sucy), guns (courtesy of Lotte), and an angry Akko (courtesy of Akko).

She wanted to burn stuff.  It didn’t matter what – as long as it wasn’t living, or she might discover something new and unpleasant about herself – but flames needed to fill her vision soon, or she’d break down.

“You’re really intense, Akko,” Lotte said as they took a back road past the prison yard.

“Someone was digging into my past.”

“I’m sorry,” Lotte said.  And she meant it.  She always did.  Akko was lucky to have her as a friend.

“Four minutes ‘till go time,” Sucy reminded them, slowing down to the speed limit.

This wasn’t a small, three woman operation.  Maybe the people of Rastavan were all crazy, because Wire had come to the conclusion of a prison break on his own.  There hadn’t been anyone to convince on their first meeting – even Amanda immediately approved of the idea.

So, aside from Akko’s team, Wire’s team and Amanda’s team were present.  It was an all or nothing job.

There were lots of ways to attempt a prison break.  Akko had seen a few movies, under Jasminka’s recommendation – she was a movie buff – but she’d not been deceived by the overwhelming success the protagonists had.  It was not an easy task.  As such, they had decided to execute multiple plans simultaneously.  Create enough chaos, and one of the groups might be successful.

Big F probably wouldn’t be able to legally retain his property in Rastavan – an unfortunate side effect of escaping from prison – but he would be able to rally his people against the government to resist the demolition, and, most importantly, he would be alive and safe.

At exactly noon, they saw it.  A small dot in the sky, far above the prison.  The radar would pick it up as a bird, until it was too late.  Sucy pulled over and they watched as it descended.  Even before it got close to the prison yard, three more joined it in the descent.

The four drones then split up, each going to its own quadrant of the field.  Simultaneously, they began to screech.  Constanze’s creations – she called them _creatures_ , but Akko preferred creations – didn’t actually have to scream.  Psychological effect, she’d said (texted).  True to her word, it added to the chaos and was just a tiny bit (very) creepy.

The true purpose of her creations was to block people from the Network.  Their scrambling of wireless signals was necessary, since the Network was a critical part of the prison’s infrastructure.  With disrupted communications, they would be uncoordinated for a few minutes before they fell onto backup channels.

The prison alarms blared, and all the prisoners began shuffling towards the doors.  That wouldn’t do.  Big F was somewhere in the crowd.  Before anyone could make it inside, the drones launched smoke grenades, and a smokescreen began to cover the field.

Inside the prison itself, Wire and Amanda’s team would be rising heck – there was no mercy for the government.

“Let’s do this,” Lotte said as the three of them climbed out of the vehicle.

“Some liquid courage,” Sucy said, handing each Lotte and Akko a flask.  She took a swig of her own, before nodding to them.  “Drink up and enjoy.  If this doesn’t go well, it’ll be your last.”

Akko wasn’t big on alcohol – maybe it was just a general dislike of liquids? – but she drank it anyways.  The burn down her throat wasn’t enough.  She wanted more; she needed more.  Akko was the only one to finish her flask, much to Sucy’s surprise, and then she turned her gaze to the prison beyond the fence.  It was made of brick and mortar, and wouldn’t burn easily.

“Let’s go,” Lotte said, her impatience showing.

Sucy turned to Akko.  Her eyes were glazed, and Akko realized that not only had she consumed her fair share of alcohol, but she’d satisfied another craving.  The saying was that drug dealers didn’t take from their own supply, but Sucy wasn’t the dealer – that was Akko’s job.  Sucy _made_ , and like any good chef, it was necessary to test the soup.

This realization gave Akko some misgivings about the danger they were about to throw themselves into.  Sucy’s career had been spawned from a love of the ride, and she threw away all inhibitions at times like these – which made her dangerous not only to her enemies, but to her friends, too.

Sucy smiled.  “For Rastavan.”

“For Rastavan,” Akko echoed.

Wire cutters were overrated.  Sucy used a bomb, which blasted an opening through the mesh and sent loud rattling vibrations down the length of the fence.

The prison had no solid cement wall protecting the field because nobody was crazy enough to attempt an escape.  Guard towers every hundred feet gave snipers a full view of the prison yard and the plains beyond the chain linked fence.  Escapees had to run far, and hiding wasn’t possible.

If they had a vehicle waiting for them, roadblocks could be set instantly, spiked belts popping up on all outgoing roads, and security cameras were everywhere.  But the Shooting Star was equipped with special wheels, which Sucy reassured them were hard enough to brute force through any sharp obstacles on the road.

And these security precautions were ignoring the most troubling aspect of all: the trackers in everyone’s necks, which could track any escapee until they were caught, outside of the Network’s range, or had willingly Zapped themselves.

That was how it was.

They filed through the hole in the fence.  The indoor distraction must have been quite successful, because all the guard towers had already been emptied.  The only guards outside would have been the ones who ran into the smoke, attempting to break up any opportunistic fights.

As they ran across the field, Akko could feel it in the pit of her stomach – the craving almost an ache, as her subconscious knew what was coming.  A long time overdue, because this was different than burning an old, empty house.  The flames this time would be a brilliant red and would happily eat away at their fuel.  It was a genuine burning.

Lotte, gun in hand, dropped to a crouched shooting position and started dispatching the cameras.  Sucy disappeared into the smokescreen, not showing any signs of hesitation.

With a shout of joy, Akko tossed her first Molotov.  It crashed into one of the support beams of the nearest guard tower – made of wood – and glass gave way to a massive fireball.

Akko’s heart was beating wildly as she stopped to admire it.  She grinned as the heat flushed through her whole body.  At the moment, it was without a doubt the best feeling in the world – screw sex and money.  Flames licked at raw materials, dark smoke rose, and wood charred as the structure groaned.

She shouted again, but it was with anger this time.  Anger at the government, who’d forced this upon her, anger at her parents, who’d been too naive and young to raise a child, and anger at Diana, whose morals were unwavering and far above Akko.

And, in a moment of honesty, some of the shout was directed at herself, for being incapable of resisting all the temptations of life.

Someone ran into her, shoving her aside in their panic.  It shook her out of her reverie.

People were everywhere, moving every which way, trying to figure out what the heck was going on, and some stumbled out of the smokescreen only to come face to face with the blazing inferno and _real_ smoke, and they tried to block it out with their hands before running back into the more breathable chaos.

Before she could really tell what was going on, she let the crowd sweep her into the smokescreen, towards the prison doors.  Sucy and Lotte were somewhere, looking for Big F, and she had to look, too.

During the meeting, a few of them had been of the opinion that they should break everyone out, rather than only Big F, but Wire had been the voice of reason.  This prison wasn’t solely for the government’s evil plots – there were truly bad people inside.

And Akko, euphoric in the smoke and screaming chaos, was in the very midst of these bad people.  

The Molotovs on her belt were calling to her, as she moved blindly, and resisting the temptation quickly became impossible.  She pulled one free and threw it in the general direction of the next guard tower.  Unfortunately, the smokescreen prevented her from seeing the result of her efforts.

Voices were shouting, and for perhaps the first time since they’d entered through the fence, Akko forgot about the fires and paid attention to her surroundings.  There were a surprising number of prisoners on the ground unconscious already.  Guards with stun-guns must have been nearby.

Her vision blurred, and the world seemed to tilt.  Akko stopped, blinking in the smoke a few times.  Subconsciously, she reached for another Molotov, and then she pressed the glass against her forehead – she didn’t drink much alcohol, but the earlier flask, combined with her instability, must have pushed her to the limit.  Her knees collapsed, and her heart skipped a beat as she nearly dropped the Molotov – she didn’t quite like flames _that_ much.  

To prevent anybody from stepping on the fire bomb, crushing the glass and combining its contents, she buried it under her body.  Seconds passed, and her condition did not improve.  It worsened, and she tried to focus, to push back the blackness on the edge of her vision.

And then, as she tried to crawl back out of the chaos, a foot stepped on her arm.  She screamed out in pain.

“That’s far enough.”

It was a familiar voice, as far gone as herself and her own understanding of the situation.  She looked up and saw gray hair – normally it had a hint of mauve to it, but the smoke drained the color away – and then Akko had seen all she needed to, so she refocused back on the ground.

“I know you’re working for Croix,” Sucy said.  She paused to laugh.  With the rioting of the prisoners – incoherent shouts and screams – as background noise, it seemed much more evil than it should have.  “Your new friend, Diana, told me all about it.  No hard feelings – this is just how we deal with traitors.  You know that as well as I do.  So, good luck.  Or not – I don’t really care.  You brought this upon yourself.”

And then she was gone, and Akko’s only company was that of unconscious inmates.  Other failed criminals, whom, in due time, she would become one of.

She tried shouting, calling for Lotte, but her voice, blunted by alcohol and smoke and the sudden onset of illness, didn’t reach.  She closed her eyes and tried to resist it, but the sounds blurred and her stomach only gave her a half-second warning before she had to roll over and vomit up her breakfast.

When she tried to reopen her eyes, she found the task too inconvenient.  But a nap was _not_ acceptable – she was busy burning stuff.  How could she want to sleep when there were such exhilarating things left to do?

So Akko compromised.  Just for a short while.  A small rest of the eyes, and it would make everything fine.  Who knew?  She might dream of a beautiful blonde – one who’d betrayed her, despite them never being on the same side in the first place – and bitter coffee.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, the story’s title was going to be ‘Burning Desire’, and it was a pun and I was so proud of myself.  And then, (what are the chances?) I found the title was already used for a LWA story.  But I’ve grown quite fond of ‘Chance of Fire’, over the past week, so I’m glad it ended up this way.


	8. Walk Out

_“Do you remember me?”_

_“Do you know my name?”_

_“Thank you.”_

 

* * *

 

Akko woke up in a hospital room.  Her body felt fine, and there were no strange tubes poking into her, but something was wrong with her hearing.  As she pushed the covers aside and sat up, the only sound she could hear was her own heartbeat.

_Thump, thump, thump._

Snapping her fingers produced no sound.  Feeling around her head, she sighed in relief when she discovered her ears were still there.  The problem would fix itself, probably.  More important was her current situation.  She slipped off the bed, tested her feet, and then stepped out of the room, peering into the hallway.  There was nobody around.  No doctors, nurses, or patients.  Odd.  Why was she in a hospital, anyways?  Akko needed to leave.  To get away.  Far away.  She rushed through the halls, her feet mute but her heart thumping in tune with her footsteps.

In the reception room, she stopped and looked around.  Empty.  Completely empty, like the place had been evacuated.  Or abandoned; never inhabited in the first place.

_I want to leave._  That thought grew stronger, in the face of this strangeness.  The exit was marked clearly.  Glass doors with bright light beyond them.  Though she was in a hospital gown, Akko didn’t hesitate.  She rushed forward and through the doors open.

_Wrong._

Her brain couldn’t process what she was seeing.  A foreign turn of events.

_Thump, thump, thump._

The door opened to another reception room, just like the one she had left.  Like a mirror world.  She took a few steps inside.  It was equally as empty.  Bright lights, white walls, clean floor.  The door slammed shut behind her.  Above it, the glowing emergency exit sign.  With more fervour, she threw the door open.

Hospital.

_Thump, thump, thump._

Hospital.

She could not escape.  Why were these rooms connected?  Where was the exit?  She wanted out.  Nothing good awaited her in here.  It was a building meant only to hold pain and bad memories.

She needed out.

 

* * *

 

Believe it or not – and she tried not to – Akko woke up inside a featureless room with cement walls, a cement floor, and nothing else.  This time, her hearing was working fine.  She pinched herself just to be sure.  Lucid enough to remember Sucy’s betrayal, and her own loss of control, Akko groaned.  How long had passed since then?  This was not good for her stress.  Already, her eyes were searching for something she could make fire out of.

Betrayal sucked.  It sucked badly.  Friends were a valuable part of everyday life.  Crushed wrists, debilitating illness, and being called a traitor was _not_.  Even if Akko was a little bad, she didn’t think she deserved to be sitting here with a sore body and handcuffs rubbing against raw skin.

Yet she wasn’t mad at Sucy.  This was the inherent risk of being her friend, and Akko knew that.  After a bit of thinking – the room she was in was very conducive to thinking – she also realized that if what Sucy said was true, then she couldn’t be mad at Diana.  Diana had probably thought she was acting in Akko’s best interests by breaking Sucy from Akko.

All this rationalizing left few people to direct her anger at.

At times like this, she was jealous of Lotte’s faeries.  Could she have her own, if she tried hard enough?  What did faeries look like?  Maybe a massive butterfly.  She tried to imagine it, but it came out with a red body, burning wings, and a pitchfork and horns.  Those additions were a surprise – possibly some leftover mind-screwing from whatever had been in the alcohol Sucy had given her – but still, the faerie was there.

Unbidden, it selected her left shoulder to rest on.  Akko remembered a comedy movie Jasminka had recommended which involved something similar, so she waited a few minutes in silence for the next one to appear on her right shoulder, but it did not happen.  She was that screwed up.

“Alright, Mr Devil,” she said.  “What do I do?”

“Burn,” he said, his voice gravelly inside her head.

But there was nothing with which to start a fire.  She voiced this thought aloud.

“Self-immolate,” the devil recommended.

It was an interesting thought, but impossible for the same reason as before.  On many occasions – though not for years – Akko had tried burning herself.  Much like betrayal, it did not feel good.

In a behavioural psychology textbook that Big F had bought her, she had read about reinforcements and punishments.  And, for a period of a month, she’d tried positive punishment: she would burn herself every time she’d had bad thoughts.  This did not work.  She’d lost sleep, had trouble socializing, her body was in constant pain, and she was generally a shell of her prior self.  Not to mention the troubles she’d had when her class went to the swimming pool.  If she hadn’t had a weird reputation before then, that had been where it had started (and shortly after that embarrassment, a field near her house had mysteriously burnt down).

“They’re going to kill me,” Akko said.  She could only hope the others had gotten out safely.

“Kill them.”

“I don’t wanna to die.”

“They’re only human.  They can suffer the same as you.”

“I refuse.  Suffering is bad.”  Akko smiled at the thought.  That was like something Diana would say.  Not all hope was lost.  “Why can’t we all just get along?”

“It’s their fault,” the devil said.  “They arrested your uncle.”

The door opened.  She opened her mouth to beg her imaginary friend to stay – even if he didn’t contribute anything useful – and keep her company in her last moments – dying alone would suck – but the devil disappeared without another word.  A man stepped into the room and grabbed the chain of her handcuffs, pulling her to her feet with little consideration for her wellbeing.

“I’m mad at you,” she said.

He didn’t answer, beyond a stony stare.  It was time to change tactics.

“Please don’t kill me,” she said as he pushed her down an empty hallway.  “I – I’m sorry.”

Still no answer.  They turned a corner and continued.

“I did something stupid, and I regret it.   _Please_.  I – I have money, if that’s what you want.  I’ll pay you, just let me go.”  That was true, but the money she had was physical, not digital.  Atsuko had a grand total of zero e-coins to her name, and that seemed like it would never change.

He brought her to another room, much like the one she’d woken up in, except there was a table and chairs.  Without so much as speaking a single word, he pushed her down into one of the chairs, stepped back, and waited.  Akko fiddled with the cuffs.

This room was noticeably several degrees cooler.  Most people would have been indifferent to this change in temperature, but for Akko, it was not only noticeable, but uncomfortable.  Goosebumps appeared on her arm, and she tried to warm it up by rubbing it on her cheek, but with handcuffs on, this entire sequence of actions was difficult, and eventually she gave up and submitted to the shivering and impending death by hypothermia.

After half an hour of frigid temperatures and nothingness, a tall woman entered the room and took the seat opposite of Akko.  She looked like Akko’s elementary school principal – tall, strict, and intimidating.

“Your name?” the woman said, resting her elbows on the table.

“I’m mad at you,” Akko said.

“I cannot say this bothers me,” the woman responded equally.  “My name is Anne Finnelan.  I am the warden here at South Leaf Pen.  No one has ever escaped this prison on my watch, but that is not to say we haven’t had our share of problems.  Today was one such day – an ugly day which I won’t ever forget.  You have an opportunity to make it slightly less ugly.  We have you on camera committing crimes against the government.  I would like answers, and it is in your best interest to give them to me.  Before it’s too late.”

Answers?  Did the warden even need answers?  Surely she knew Akko knew they were planning to kill Big F.  After not too much thinking, Akko tightened her lips.

“Your tracker doesn’t respond to us,” Warden Finnelan said.  “I cannot imagine your security clearance is greater than ours, which leaves us with one possibility.  You are Zapped.”  She stopped for a second, perhaps waiting for a denial or some sort of reaction.  “We are currently running your prints.  Do you know how many people live disconnected from the Network?  It’s only a matter of time.  But I digress.  You have an important choice to make.  Someone from the government is coming to take you away.  They say they know who you are, and will handle you.  Once you leave here, you will likely never be seen again.  We can let you take them, or, there’s an alternative.  Here, in South Leaf Penitentiary, I have more power than any government lackeys.  Answer every question we ask truthfully, and I can promise they will never take you from here.  No one will.”

Oh, geez.  Akko tried to breathe, but it was painful, and her whole chest was shaking – what had Sucy given her? – and she couldn’t focus on the warden, nor the table, so she screwed her eyes shut.  It was only marginally easier to breathe when her eyes were closed.

“This was an escape attempt?”

Akko didn’t react.

“Who were you trying to escape?”

Trying?  Had Sucy screwed them over so badly that Big F didn’t even get out?  They had better not have caught Wire or – and Akko couldn’t believe she was even thinking it – Amanda.

“Tell me the names of the others who participated.  Are they all Zapped, too?”

Not a single one of them.  If they changed their appearances enough, they could walk back into town and lead a normal life.  And even if they didn’t change their appearances, it wasn’t guaranteed the government would spend resources to track them down and arrest them.

The Warden didn’t give up there.  In the face of Akko’s continued silence, she asked questions from every angle, until, finally, she stood up and sighed.

“They’re here.  You had your chance.  I’m sorry you wouldn’t let me help you.”

Warden Finnelan left the room, and Akko remained sitting, watched by the guard.

It was only a minute before the government goon arrived.  But the goon wasn’t a bald-headed muscle man with a black coat and dark sunglasses.   _She_ had glasses, but that was the extent of any similarities between Akko’s imagination and reality.  Her features were gentle, her hair blue, and her eyes a startlingly dark red.

“It _is_ you,” the woman said, rushing over.  “Are you okay?”

Thank god for Jasminka.  Akko recognized this for what it was – the Good Cop, Bad Cop routine.  The warden had done the intimidation, and now Akko would cry and spill out all her secrets to the nice comforting woman who had just arrived.  Not that that was what she wanted to do.  Of course not.  Not even as the woman tenderly touched her wrists and massaged her back.

“I’m mad at you,” Akko said, remembering what her first words needed to be.

Good Cop recoiled, looking hurt at the statement.  “What did I do wrong?”

“I don’t know, but I’m mad at you.”

Good Cop seemed to contemplate these words for a bit, and then she turned to the guard.  “Key,” she said.

He handed it over, and in moments, the woman had freed Akko’s wrists.

“Let’s go,” Good Cop said.

With free hands, Akko stood up and left the room, following Good Cop – who, with each passing second, seemed less like Good Cop and more like an actual government lackey who was going to give her a single well placed shot in the forehead and then dump her body at the nearest crematorium.  So Akko renamed the woman to Government Lackey, and they began taking a series of twists and turns to the exit.

On a couple occasions, as a test, Akko tried to slow down or speed up – anything to change the distance between them, in preparation for an escape – but Government Lackey didn’t seem to mind.  Rather than shove Akko or control her in any way, Government Lackey tried to match her pace.  The result was a weird dance down the hallway executed in complete silence but for their footsteps.

And then, when they stopped at a nondescript intersection of hallways, Government Lackey earned a new name.  Incompetent Weirdo was lost.  The woman looked down the three possible hallways – none had signs – with a troubled expression, and they stood there for a few seconds before Incompetent Weirdo turned to Akko.  And, _seriously_?  How was Akko supposed to know the way out?  She was still busy trying to figure out what the fridge was going to happen to her.

Eventually, a guard who happened to pass by offered Incompetent Weirdo directions, and within minutes, they stepped outside to be greeted by an evening sky.  Pink clouds on the horizon, and an orangish sky that reminded Akko of fire.

“You can relax, Akko,” Incompetent Weirdo said.  “Or do you prefer Echo?”

Akko tensed.

She looked back to the prison, wondering if it was too late to run back there and plead for them to lock her up and never let her out, because that _had_ to be better than whatever was coming.  And who knew? Maybe when the drugs cleared from Sucy’s system, she would regret what she’d done and come back to save Akko.

“Don’t run,” Incompetent Weirdo said.  “Not from the only person who can help you, Akko.”

“How do you know my name?”

The woman didn’t answer right away.  Instead, they crossed the parking lot and entered a vehicle.  It started up in silence, a far cry from the engines of the truck Akko wished she were leaving in.  The car started driving as soon as their seatbelts clicked in place.  

“My name is Ursula,” the woman said.  She turned and faced Akko.  “I knew your uncle.”

“Knew?” Akko croaked.

“ _Oh, Akko._ ”  And she sounded so pained.  “I thought you already knew.  I’m so sorry.  He was killed in the riot.”

“We... we killed him?  That – that’s not right.  We were trying to _save_ him.”

“I’m sorry, Akko.”  Ursula put a hand on her shoulder, but it wasn’t comforting.  “It wasn’t your fault.  I was told it was chaos – nobody could have stopped it in a situation like that.”

But that was exactly what they had wanted.  Chaos had been their goal, so they could slip Big F out without anyone noticing until it was too late.  They created the chaos that killed him – it was _their_ fault.   _Akko’s_ fault, because she’d been so intent on burning that she’d suggested they create as big of a mess as possible.

Drops of water spilled on her lap, and she didn’t like it.  She liked fire.  Why couldn’t she cry tears of lava?  Why couldn’t she not cry at all?  Why did Big F have to die?

“You – you said you knew him,” Akko said.  “How?”

“He... your Uncle Fafnir was a close and dear friend of mine.” 


	9. Not Safe

The car drove itself along the road.  It passed farm and forest, and then the lights of the city illuminated the streets.  Rastavan was a dark place compared to the rest of the city, where billboard lights flashed red and yellow and every other colour, enticing daily commuters.

Akko was not enticed, though she wanted to be.  She wanted to forget, to escape, to be distracted.  Even as they drove past a movie theatre, Akko wanted to stop there and watch a movie.

On one night out – after Akko had been destroyed by Amanda at pool billiards – Jasminka had expounded the movie-going fad.  Large screen, loud sounds, and buttery popcorn, complete with sound effects from the audience when the serial killer finally got the protagonist – okay, it seemed Jasminka only liked the movie theatre atmosphere when it came to horror movies.  But still, Akko wished she was in the dark theatre, losing herself in the lives of fictional characters.  Instead, she was cooped up in a car with some mysterious government employee who claimed to have known her now-dead-and-forever-dead uncle.

“He was your friend?” Akko said, her gaze following the movie theatre until it was out of sight.

“Yes.”  Ursula paused, a troubled expression on her face – and then she sneezed.  “Sorry.  Seasonal allergies.  Anyways, we need to talk about _you_.”

As it was, Akko didn’t want to talk about herself, or her situation.  Maybe hearing a story from the past, with her uncle and this woman as protagonists, was what she needed.  Something to distance herself from the here and now.

“You were found unconscious in the yard, after the smoke cleared,” Ursula said.  “None of the guards claimed to have stunned you.  What exactly happened?”

“Uh.”

“Did an inmate attack you?”

“Yeah.”

Ursula nodded.  “Your determination is admirable, but that doesn’t permit foolishness.  If, hypothetically, I were to execute a prison break, I would spend _at least_ one week to prepare.”

“We didn’t have a choice,” Akko said.  “They were going to kill him.”

“Kill him?”  Ursula furrowed a brow.  “Are you sure?  What makes you say that?”

“The Rastavan redevelopment plan.  Now that he’s dead, they’re going to demolish the entire neighbourhood.”

“I – I was not aware of that.  You believe this is why he was arrested, then?”

“Yes.”  Akko wiped at her drying cheeks.  “I need to know something.”

“What?” Ursula said, though her hesitance was obvious.

“How did he die?  Who was it that killed him?  I need a name.”

“I’m sorry, Akko – though I think it’s for the best – there’s no footage of it.  Most security cameras were destroyed by gunfire, and we believe it happened in a smokescreen, anyways.  Your question… there’s simply no way to answer it.”

“But you’re from the government.  You have resources, right?  You can figure it out.  Interview all the inmates.  One of them will know something.”

“Do you want revenge?” Ursula whispered.

“No.”  Just a righteous burning.

“Good.”  Ursula visibly relaxed in her seat.  “Revenge is dangerous.  It drives you to do reckless things – even more reckless than what you did today, as hard as that is to imagine.”

“What about my – did they catch anyone else?”

“Your friends are fine.  They escaped in the chaos.”  The vehicle beeped, requesting a destination, and Ursula tapped the touch screen a few times.  “Should I drop you off at your place?”

“No,” Akko said.  “Don’t.  It’s not safe, now that they have my identity.”

“They don’t, though,” Ursula said.  “I’m not sure about the details, but they never found a match to your fingerprints.”

Akko didn’t believe that for a second.  She wasn’t stupid.  There were fifty-five million people in the country.  A single parameter search could easily be distributed throughout hundreds of servers.  It would take at most a minute or two to scan the entire population and find a match.  Someone was lying, and Akko didn’t know if it was Ursula, a prison employee, or someone else along the chain of command.

“I have some theories that could explain this,” Ursula continued, “but they will need to wait until later.  I’m sorry we can’t talk longer, but I’ve got some things on my mind.  Decisions to make.”

The car stopped at a red light.  A billboard, hanging in front of the vehicle, changed images.  It now featured two vacuum cleaners, one advertised as pet hair friendly, and the other as cordless.  Either one, just six hundred e-coins, it claimed.  Instant purchase, twenty-four hour delivery, pull out your phone and tap _yes_!

Big decisions, Akko thought.  Big decisions indeed.

Ursula looked at the billboard only momentarily.  “Don’t do anything rash for the next couple days,” she said.  “This incident will be overlooked, so the government has no reason to go after you.  We have more to talk about – I’ll be in contact as soon as possible.”

The rest of the drive through town passed in a daze of bright, moving lights, and then Akko stepped out of the car into the cold night air.

It wasn’t until Ursula was driving off that Akko realized she hadn’t been brought to the coffee shop, but half a block over.  Ursula had dropped her off at the old laundromat.  For a few months, earlier in the year, Akko had worked there.  It had been better than coffee, but unfortunately Big F had wanted to revive the coffee shop, so the laundry venture had been abandoned.

The walk to the coffee shop went by quick, but she still felt vulnerable.  Ursula could have been lying about everything – Akko didn’t see why she would, but it was a possibility.  If the government knew where they lived, it was only a question of if they wanted to expend resources now, or wait until the demolition to clean up Rastavan’s population.

Approaching the coffee shop, her steps were circumspect as she tried to avoid all the glass that she hadn’t come around to cleaning.  Was there even any point, if the neighbourhood was going to be demolished?  Maybe Croix had ended Akko’s coffee-making career early – yet another reason to be thankful to Croix.

The back door wasn’t locked – her memory of before the prison was a little cloudy, but it wasn’t surprising.  She’d needed release so badly she hadn’t been able to concentrate and perform tasks as menial as sweeping glass and locking doors.

With her mind intent on crashing the second she touched her bed, she entered her room, flicked on the lights, and began to take off her shirt.

Her shirt was between her arms above her head, when she realized she wasn’t alone.  Someone else was in the room – in the corner, next to the safe – and they looked equally as alarmed.

Akko scrambled to get her shirt back on – her priorities were so disordered that yes, it did seem like the most important thing to do.  And then she stared, trying to find the right words for what she saw.

There was a toolkit at Diana’s feet, and an odd metal lump attached to the safe.  Diana – again, her hair in a ponytail – was wearing gloves and a black leather jacket.  It was not her usual getup, nor the getup of any innocent girl.  It was what gangsters wore, when they raced down the roads on their motorbikes, hair whipping about in the wind.

It was a tantalizing image, even if it was so far from reality.

“Atsuko,” Diana said.  “You’re... you’re okay.”

“No thanks to you.”

“I wanted to help you.  I offered you an out.  Lotte informed me that you had been arrested, but it was _your_ decision, not mine, that resulted in that.”

First Sucy, now Lotte?  Why did Diana have to interfere with all her friendships?  “Don’t say it like that,” Akko said.  “Not after turning Sucy on me.”

“What does she have to do with you getting arrested?” Diana said, frowning.

Akko crossed her arms.

“Is she really that dense?” Diana said, looking part shocked and part disgusted.  “Did she not at least _attempt_ to verify my ridiculous claims against you?  I see I greatly underestimated her insanity.  But you weren’t ever in danger.  The Warden at South Leaf is a family friend.”

“Yeah, she sure seemed friendly to me.”

“None of this turned out as I had envisioned.  I wanted to help you, and the only way I could do so was to remove bad influences.  It was in your best interests.  But more importantly, how did you get out of the prison?”

“Magic.  My turn: what else did you lie about?” Akko challenged.   _She_ was the one who was supposed to be getting answers from this intrusion.  “I suppose you eavesdropped on my conversation with Croix, too?”

“No.  I told the truth then, just as I am now.  I am not your enemy, and I could only wish I was your friend.”

“Yeah, it sure seems like it.”

“When I heard you were in prison, I felt sick.  I don’t know how you got out, Atsuko, but I’m glad you did.  I won’t lie to you again,” Diana said.  “I will explain everything – you just need to ask.”

“ _Now_ you want to explain, when I practically begged you, before?  Fine, then.  How about you explain what the heck you’re doing here?”

“I am employed by Her Majesty’s Treasury, in the Cryptocurrency Misuse Task Force.”

“ _Uh-_ ”

“We investigate e-coin crimes.”

Immediately, Akko looked to the safe.  Big F had entrusted it to her before he left, and he had spoken gravely about its importance.  Akko, in a moment of unrivalled wisdom, had decided it was best not to even touch the metal box.  There was probably lots of hard cash in there, as well as weapons and other valuable papers and documentation.

“The safe,” Akko breathed.  “That’s what you want.”

“It is.”

Was that what this was all about?  The government had arrested Big F for the safe, and not for the reconstruction plan?  Or it might have been two birds with one stone.  Lotte’s logic had been sound, but there was no reason to believe moving forward with the reconstruction plan was their only goal.

Akko could have asked what exactly was in the safe that the government needed so bad, but that would have been admitting how idiotic she was.  She even had the password to open it, but hadn’t ever checked.

“And I kept letting you in here,” Akko said.  “I’m such an idiot.”

“Since only idiots would attempt to break someone out of prison with only two days of planning, yes, I would tend to agree,” Diana said, smiling cautiously.  “Though I did think it was debatable, for a while.  Do you have the combination to the safe?”

“No.”  That was the cheapest word of all, and the lie came easy.

“Big F is dead.”

“Did you have him killed?”

Diana looked shocked at the accusation.  “What?  No – of course not!  His value, _alive_ , is immense – he’s the last person the government would want dead.  This is a major inconvenience to the task force.”

“An inconvenience?” Akko echoed.  “Is that what my uncle’s death is to you?”

“Uncle?”  Diana frowned, as though she were mentally tracing through Akko’s family tree.  “That’s – _oh_.  Atsuko... I swear, this isn’t what I wanted.  But – but we discussed this before.  He’s not the most upstanding person-”

“ _Wasn’t_.”

“He wasn’t.  This is an opportunity to leave Rastavan.  To move on.”

Akko took a step forward.  She wasn’t sure what she was going to do, or what she wanted, but it probably wasn’t anything a sane person would do or want in this situation, and it seemed like a good idea to move, rather than stand at the entrance of her own room.

She wanted to believe everything Diana said, she really did, but wouldn’t that be a mistake?   _Another_ mistake?  Getting played by a hot blonde was understandable, but as they said, fool me once shame on you, fool me twice...

So Akko was split.  She knew she was, and it probably showed on her face, because Diana was watching her very closely.  And though she didn’t want to cause Diana any physical harm, she found her fists tightening as she approached.

“Atsuko, stop, please,” Diana said, taking an unsteady breath.  “I didn’t want to lie.  I didn’t want anyone to die.  I was just doing my job.  None of this was supposed to happen – it’s all gone out of control.  I came here thinking I should destroy it, but it’s not fair, is it, for me to make such a decision?”

Akko stopped.  What was in the darned safe that was so important?

Diana took the opportunity to move towards the door, making a wide detour around Akko.  “I – I can’t do this.  It’s up to you.  It’s your decision, now.  Both the safe, and your own well being.  I’m sorry.  I wish it didn’t have to happen like this.  I hope you make the right choices, and – and I wish we could have met under different circumstances.  Goodbye, Atsuko.”

With those words said, she ran out of the room.

The device on the safe was still there, as was the toolbox Diana had brought, but Akko didn’t care.  Diana was a government employee.  Of course she was.  Big F’s greatest enemy, and Akko didn’t even notice.  But what now?

How was she supposed to feel?

There was a ringing in her ears, like a pressure was building inside her head, as she stumbled over to her futon and collapsed.

_Diana._

_Government._

_Something needs to burn._

The words echoed in her head and into her nightmares.


	10. Break In

A full night’s sleep had done wonders for Akko.

She still wanted to burn something, but her head was clearer than it had any right to be, considering the week she’d had.  In fact, she was starting to understand what needed to be done.  Step one, sate her emotions relating to Diana.  Step two, stop the government from demolishing Rastavan.  Step three,  _ revenge _ .  No – hold that.  She had promised Ursula: step three, a righteous burning.  Only once all that was done would she be able to refocus on getting an identity and the  privileges of a normal human being .

Or maybe... just maybe... destroying the government would be easier?

Well, first things first.  Step one didn’t take much thinking.  It took action.  Since Akko was Zapped, she couldn’t take public transit.  The buses hadn’t taken coins for years; it was all automated with phones, e-coins, and QR codes.  Instead, she used her bike – a thing so rusted and creaky that she could leave it in the alley and not worry about it being stolen.

Diana Cavendish’s lifestyle was much different from what she had expected.  Diana did not live with her parents, nor did she rent a place with roommates, or indeed rent a place at all.  She  had purchased  her own house.  It was a modest two-story building in a nice neighbourhood, but the place was too darn big for a single person.

Akko rode her bike into the backyard and left it lying on the ground – the kickstand had broken long ago.

Subtlety wasn’t necessary; Diana wasn’t home.  She  peeked in a window, and then circled around the house and pe e ked in a front window.  She knocked on the door.  There was no barking, pattering of paws, or other sounds, not that she’d expected Diana to own a pet.  But still,  _ eighteen _ , and she owned a house and worked for the government.

Akko let the thought sink in – it helped fuel her anger – and then she set about working on the back door.  She and Amanda didn’t get along very well, but both thieves and magicians held the same interesting in getting past locks, so they had been able to bond over at least that much.  Amanda had passed on some of her expertise, but in this case it didn’t do any good.  The door’s mechanism was too complex, and Akko couldn’t make any progress.  

Beaten by a door.

After a quick check, she did  _ not _ find keys under any potted plants at either the front or back door.  Getting annoyed, she went around testing all the windows within reach.  No  dice .  

Her luck, she discovered, was more of the break-a-leg kind – not in the usual sense, but literal.  There  _ was _ an open window, only it was on the second floor.  It had been awhile since Akko had done any climbing, and even longer since she’d done it without breaking a bone (if Akko hadn’t been busy breaking the law, she might have been disturbed by the fact that she couldn’t remember what she had been doing, when she broke her arm all those years ago).  Still, she had come here for a reason, and she wasn’t going to hop on her creaky bike and  pedal all the way home because that pipe that led up along the window looked unsuitable for climbing.

Judging by the wheelbarrow of dirt at the back door, Diana was into gardening.  On top of the pile of dirt, there was a pair of good grip gloves.  Akko put those on, and began the ascent.  It was slow going, but she eventually made it to the window – at which point, she realized the hardest part of breaking in would be getting from the pipe to the window without losing her footing and falling.

Multiple attempts  passed – where she brought a foot or hand towards the window only to pull it back hopelessly – before she managed to kick in the screen.  With an impressive – at least, she thought – show of strength, Akko got a hand into the house and then abandoned the pipe, transitioning over to the window where she was able to lift herself up and in.

She had entered through an empty room – proof of Diana’s richness, having more rooms than she needed – and, like the rebel she was, she didn’t take off her shoes as she passed through to the living room.  It was a sparsely decorated place.  There was a couch with pillows arranged on it at the perfect angle, as though it were an in-store display. Had anyone ever in sat on it? Akko wondered.  (She sat on it, and stopped wondering.) 

T he entire room felt so inhospitable, even with the perfectly good furniture and the large TV.

Akko slipped off her shoes – rebel or not, she could only take so much of walking on carpet with her shoes on – and jumped into the armchair in front of the TV.

Did Diana watch much TV?  She had mentioned it once before, at Akko’s place, before Lotte had interrupted them.  The TV remote was on a side table and Akko reached for it before stopping.  Granted, she probably had time to flip through the channels, but there was something else much more enjoyable to do, and-

Akko inhaled deeply.

-and the armchair smelled like Diana.   _ Wow _ .

Just how many nights did Diana spend curled up in the same position as Akko, watching late night sitcoms?

Before she got too carried away with being creepy, Akko started checking the other rooms.  Most were empty, but one of them yielded another quick distraction.  It was a room full of bookshelves.  A miniature library, but most books seemed to be massive hardcovers.  With a tilted head, she began reading through the titles.  It started (relatively) innocent, with chemistry, physics, and algebra textbooks, but to Akko’s dismay, the titles grew more complicated.

Diana had  _ Information Theory, _ volumes one through three,  _ Intro to SQL _ ,  _ Distributed Networking _ , and  _ Non _ _ - _ _ Relational Databases _ .

There was an entire shelf of cryptography books, starting with  _ Basic Cryptography _ and then jumping into  _ Cryptography: Adversary’s Advantage _ .  From there, it went through the alphabet, with books such as  _ Cryptography: Real Randomness  _ (a whole book on randomness?) and  _ Simple Symmetry  _ (which, Akko presumed, was anything but).  It seemed some letters were too hard to alliterate, either that or Diana didn’t own the whole collection.  The missing letters were kind of annoying, but Akko reassured herself that the problem would soon be fixed.

The books then went on to prove Diana had told the truth about her occupation.   _ Blockchain: A Decentralized and Fault Tolerant Ledger _ ,  _ Blockchain Era _ ,  _ History of Cryptocurrency _ , and  _ Protocols of E-Coin _ were all next to each other.

At least Diana tried to atone for her boringness with a shelf dedicated to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Agatha  Christie , but one shelf of century-old fiction was  _ not _ enough.  The judgement she had felt when Diana had found her pi book was one hundred percent unjustified.  After all, Diana had an entire book on the theory of randomness, and pi wasn’t even, technically, random.

Akko wished things could go back to before, whe n they could talk on her couch and not care about any secrets the other held.  She wished she could tease Diana about how nerdy her book collection was, and Diana could counter with how messy Akko’s room was, and they could laugh and be friends – and Akko was having second thoughts about all this.

Darn it.  Less thinking, more  _ Fahrenheit 451 _ .

Akko went to the kitchen next.  Exploring the house was interesting and all, but there was an actual, useful reason for it.  She needed to understand the structure – its material, its contents, the layout – if she wanted to do a clean, proper job of it.  Where to start the fire, how fuel much to use, and when to call the fire department were critical if she didn’t want to damage neighbouring homes or have this venture otherwise go wrong.

The kitchen, like the rest of the house, was a very cold place.  The counters were empty; no bowls of fruits, banana hangers, or cutting board to be seen.  There was no paper towel dispenser on the wall, or salt and pepper on the table, or pots on the stove.  The coffee machine was what stood out the most, and Akko briefly wondered if Diana subsisted exclusively on coffee.

There was a calendar next to the fridge, but it was still on last month, and there was nothing written on it – not a single appointment reminder, chore, or birthday.  Unused, perhaps untouched since it had been put up.  It was bad luck to have the calendar on the wrong month, so Akko removed it, flipped to the next page – a picture of wild horses in a field next to massive mountains – and set it back.  She nodded, satisfied.

Soon, the calendar would cease to exist, but in this moment, at least it was right.  Akko took a perverse enjoyment out of seeing the last moments of a place.  All the items that would soon be consumed in flames – her heart quickened at the thought, and she could feel a warmth in the pit of her stomach – had a story.  They had been purchased by someone, and arranged in the way Akko now saw them, and they had been a valuable part of the house’s character for years, and this was the end of the story.  The last page, and it was a page only Akko would read.

The walls of the kitchen weren’t totally bare.  There was a large picture screen on the wall behind the table (which had four seats and only made the place feel more empty).  The screen was mounted in the wall, showing a slideshow of images.  Places like Rastavan didn’t have such modern tech, but this was a new, fancy neighbourhood, so it wasn’t surprising.  Akko watched the images for a while.  There was a picture of a cow  grazing in a field, a  hill of wild sunflowers, and then the interior of some worn down and abandoned factory.

Was Diana purposefully trying to make the place depressing?

The sink clean, the garbage empty.  There was no landline phone or any computers in sight.  No fridge magnets – actually, yes to the fridge magnets.  Fast food delivery magnets  o n one corner of th e fridge door .  Burgers, pizza, sushi.  So she didn’t cook much?  Akko checked the cupboard to find the cups collecting dust (except for one).

On the table, a small sheet of paper.

_ -milk! _

_ -tomato!!! _

_ -paper towel!!!! _

Akko grinned.  She didn’t understand what the exclamation marks were for, but she liked them.  It was like Diana was trying to spice up a very boring life.

The writing was both in cursive and neater than Akko could have managed.  Well, Akko didn’t actually know cursive – she’d used it once in elementary school, but the education system soon realized computers were a thing.  And speaking of computers being a thing, wasn’t this note a little old fashioned?  Phones worked just fine to handle grocery lists.

Once  d one  in the kitchen, Akko descended into the basement.  There, she found more empty rooms.  In the office, there was a camera on the desk.  It was the one Diana had brought to the coffee shop.  Digging in the desk, Akko found batteries, cords, and memory cards.   The hobby hadn’t been a lie, after all.  She picked up the camera and snapped a picture of herself; something only the stupidest of criminals would do, but that only made it more fun.

And then, in the garage, she found what she was looking for.

 


	11. Hot Place

Elementary school kids were like wolves, roaming the playground in packs.

Her first day at school, Akko had been bullied by a bunch of boys and went home crying.  Her mother had then taught her a few things.  On the second day of school, she isolated the weakest bully and hurt him.  The third day of school, she had joined the bullies (having met some kind of twisted prerequisite).  And so, her pack had the first and only girl in it, and this seemed to grant them some sort of elite status on the playground.

After the fourth day of school, she’d had a solid understanding of romance.  It was quite simple, actually.  You were mean to the girl you liked.  In retrospect, Akko had no idea what that was supposed to accomplish, but it had seemed right at the time, so she had started bullying a girl in her class.

Unfortunately, Akko lacked subtlety – something that would haunt her forever more – and after months of lunchtime detentions and pseudo-therapy by the school counsellor, she was forced to change schools.  The second school didn’t work the same way, and she had found that boring.  She had also found out how easy it was to delete the messages on the home phone about her absence from school.  It was around this time that she had discovered fire, in all its glory.

The idea to burn down Diana’s house might have been remnants of that first school’s playground ideology.  A twisted, super-duper advanced version of it, that was.  Now, Akko knew it would not win her the girl, but she could hope it would settle her emotions.

 

* * *

 

For obvious reasons (though Lotte had needed to point it out, the first time it had happened), Akko didn’t bring gasoline on her bike.

Instead, she found it in the garage.

Untwisting the cap, she took in a deep breath.   _Excellent_.  Like a vintage wine.

She lugged it out of the garage and upstairs.  The master bedroom featured the largest bed Akko had ever seen.  There was no point in trying to resist, so she climbed on it and started jumping up and down – she’d always wanted to do that – and with each creak of the bed, the tension in her ratcheted up another notch.  Now she was just delaying.  There was nothing else to do; she’d already chosen this room as the origin point.

Still, postponing the burning would make the flames more beautiful, the heat hotter, and the smoke acrider.  Delayed gratification, her behavioural psychology textbook probably would have said.

She jumped off the bed, landing next to the gas can.  This was the fate of her enemies.  They would burn.  But was Diana an enemy?  A liar, sure, and she worked for the government, but that didn’t _make_ her the government.  All that ‘I want to help you’ stuff had confused Akko further.

And, well, this was just great.  On the bedside table, a playing card.  An eight of diamonds.   _The_ eight of diamonds.  The Unmelting Snowman.  Akko hadn’t even known Diana had taken it.  If it was still here, after everything that happened, well, Akko would rather not thinking about it, lest she get cold feet (she hated any part of her being cold).

Ignoring the playing card, Akko uncapped the gas and began to pour it.  Maybe she would draw a smiley face on the carpet, or write Diana’s name with the gas before igniting it – something fun, or symbolic, because nobody would ever know.  No one but her.

“Atsuko.”

The name jolted her.  Fire discipline and instincts made her set the can down rather than drop it.  In horror, she looked up.  Diana was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed.  She was still as pretty as ever, but the concern on her face was _not_ hot – anger was.  Why couldn’t she be angry?

“Why can’t you be angry?” Akko said aloud.

“Angry?”  Diana’s eyes were inscrutable.  “Is this the solution you came to?  Burn my house down?”

“You don’t have to be here,” Akko said.  She pulled out a lighter and flicked it to life.  “I said I would burn you, but that’s not actually what I do.  I don’t burn people.  Just everything they have.”

Diana shook her head.  “I know.  You don’t harm people directly.  You’re a coward, and you don’t like to see their pain.  Instead, you burn and run.”

“Okay,” Akko said, holding the flame between them.  The tiny flame didn’t look like much of a threat, but at any moment she could have dropped it onto the wet carpet.

“I’ve been thinking,” Diana said.  “A lot.  I read about _it_.  Stress causes the need to burn.  Tension builds up in the moments before the release, and it becomes impossible to stop yourself.  You do it for the pleasure.  Is that correct?”

“Darn right it is.”  Akko licked her lips; it added just the right amount of insanity to her character.  “Feeling pretty on edge right now.”

Diana nodded and took a step forward, pausing only to close the door behind her.  “Good.”  She took a deep breath.  “I’m glad I understand that much.”

Akko didn’t expect it, so she didn’t react.  Diana strode over, completely ignoring the gas can, the gasoline-soaked carpet, and the lighter.  With both hands, she shoved Akko back onto the bed and climbed atop her.

“Oh,” Akko said.

Diana leaned down – pausing for a moment for their eyes to meet – and Akko couldn’t believe it, so she just blinked – maybe she was too entranced by the deep blue of Diana’s eyes, and the fact that, had Akko wanted to, she could have started counting eyelashes – and then Diana’s eyes closed – darn, Akko wanted to stare a little bit longer – and she closed the distance.  Their lips pressed together, and, okay, maybe the alternative to staring longer was acceptable, too.

The kiss was more passionate than Akko had expected, but it suited how she felt.  Diana lips were soft and warm, and felt nice – as she had dreamt, since the first day they’d met – and she couldn’t begin to even think of what was going on in Diana’s mind – okay, maybe she could, a little: _Oh god this is disgusting her lips are so chapped what am I doing is my house even worth this I wanna die._

And though the kiss ended after only a few seconds – Akko would have been fine with an eternity or two – Diana pulled away only a little.  Their lips tickled each other for a second, as though not wanting to part, not just yet – and Akko wasn’t ever one to refuse her lips – not that they’d ever longed for something so badly – so she tried to lean back in.  Diana, however, had other plans.  She sat up.

“But fire isn’t the only pleasure you can feel, am I right?” she whispered, her confidence ruling the moment – well, maybe her lips were queen, but the confidence was there, too.  “There’s another way to get the release you want.”

At that moment, while Akko was still trying to stop thinking about their kiss, Diana’s knee pressed down between her legs.  She moaned.  Her eternal curse of zero subtlety.  She wanted it.  She needed more.

This strategy had failed her many times before, but that was with her own fingers.  With Diana, well, screw fires (or more like don’t, because there was now a valid alternative).

“Diana,” Akko breathed.  There wasn’t anything else her brain would allow her to say.  She could even smell the fumes from the gas can, and it was intoxicating.   _All-consuming_.

“I’m a sufficient substitute for fire?” Diana said.  “Not the aspirations I had when I was younger, but I suppose it will do.”

Her hands reached down to Akko’s waist, and then hooked at her shirt and began to lift it, exposing Akko’s stomach.

“Mmm,” Akko sighed.  The heat was building.  “Fire.”

“You’re as twisted as they come.”

Akko tried to sit up, but Diana pushed her back down.  

“Not yet,” Diana said.  “Relax.”

“Hold on,” Akko said.  “Fire.”

“Worry not.”  Diana smiled – but for a fraction of a second, her confidence was not there.  “I’ll do my best.”

“I mean – _fire_.”

Maybe it was the smoke, or the heat, or the realization that the lighter which Akko had been holding earlier had mysteriously disappeared, but Diana finally turned around.

For three seconds – three seconds too long for Diana, and three seconds of odd comfort for Akko – Diana did not move.  She stared at the flames that were eating away at the edge of her bed.  And then she scrambled off Akko and the bed, and grabbed a pillow – perhaps with the intent of smothering the fire, but it had grown too large too fast – and then threw the pillow away again.

Showing some hesitation, Diana approached the fire – the light illuminating her in a way that made Akko want to tackle her and take her then and there, the fire be darned – and then she pulled the gas canister away.

With that threat gone, she retreated again.

Akko had watched this with great interest, and whereas the last time they’d met her top priority had been to put her shirt back on, now she was content to lay on the bed, basking her stomach in the heat.  After a few seconds, she brought a hand to her skin, to trace circles around her bellybutton.  If Diana was too busy, then maybe her presence was enough.  Akko’s fingers started moving lower.

And then Diana turned on her.

“Don’t just sit there touching yourself,” she shrieked.  “ _Do something_!”

Akko sat up, pulled her shirt down, and looked towards the gas canister, now a safe distance away.

“Is that _all_ your brain can process?  You are the greatest waste of oxygen I have ever had the misfortune of meeting!”

“Oh.”  Akko frowned.  She’d thought, if the house was going to burn anyways, they could make a clean job of it.

“Don’t ‘ _oh_ ’ me.  Get up.  Off the bed.  I can’t believe what you made me do.   _Out_.  Leave!  Next time I see you here, I’m calling the police.”

And then, as though the idea had only just occurred to her, she pulled out her phone and dialled the emergency number.

Akko was a little confused – okay, very confused; she wasn’t sure if she had actually gotten the release she’d wanted, or just a little bit of two different pleasures that wouldn’t amount to anything significant in the end.

She left the room, left the house, grabbed her bike, and left the property.  The desire to watch – and a growing curiosity of how Diana was reacting – made her pedal slow enough that she was zigzagging all the way down the street.


	12. The Truth

“Hello, Echo.”

Akko woke to the intruder’s voice.  She rolled over and fell off her futon, remembering a little too late that she hadn’t extended it into a bed the night before.  With a groan, she struggled free of the sheets and stood up.  

Croix was leaning against the doorframe of the entrance to the back room with a bemused expression.  She was alone, this time, or at least appeared to be.

Since the coffee shop’s front glass had shattered, it seemed Akko’s room was everyone’s new favourite hangout.  In normal circumstances, that would have been fine, but in this case, she needed a break.  She wasn’t yet ready to start hosting any moralists, liars, or crime lords again.

“It was unlocked,” Croix said.

“No kidding,” Akko said dryly – though she had no right to try and sound cool, with last day’s clothes on, a messy head, and blankets all over the floor.

“I heard you somehow escaped a stint in South Pen, trying to break Big F out.  But he’s dead now, and you’ve had time to think over my proposal.  I’d like to hear your answer.”

Croix crossed the room to the safe – everyone’s new favourite salad bar – kicking aside the boxes in her way.  One of the boxes didn’t move as much upon meeting her foot, and she stumbled around it.   _Found the coin jar_ , Akko thought.

“No,” she said.  “You can call yourself the dark side, the light side, whatever.  I don’t really care.  I worked for Big F because I respected him.”

“Talking like that, you must not know what’s in here?” Croix said, tapping the safe.

“No.”

“You don’t have the password?”

“No.”

“You don’t know much, do you?”

Akko grit her teeth.  “No.”

“I’m going to tell you, then.”  Croix sighed.  “I’m going to tell you everything.  Now that Big F is dead, we can’t sit idle.  From the beginning, then.  His real name is Fafnir.”

Akko knew that much.  In fact, it seemed Croix was missing a detail here – Akko was his niece.

“He was my high school teacher,” Croix continued, “and I became close friends with him.  Around that time, I also became friends with a girl in my class named Chariot.  She wasn’t the brightest student, but she was determined, and had something in common with Fafnir and me.  We didn’t like what the government was doing.  And it wasn’t just their rigged elections.  The disposal of nuclear waste, the laws regarding self-driving cars, the allocation of their budget, their foreign affair policies, their Internet monitoring and censoring... the list goes on.

“Fafnir and I, we were pretty good with computers.  He taught me a lot of what I know.  Chariot, well, she had other talents.  We decided to use our skills to fight against the government – to reveal the corruption to the people.  For two years we did this, and then the idea of cryptocurrencies came along.  The introduction of e-coins to pay for everything, along with coupling personal IDs to e-coin wallets, was just a tool for them to have more control over the people.  You know this truth – you can’t even take the bus without using e-coins, and then _they_ know where you are and where you’re going.

“So our next mission was obvious.  We were going to stop their implementation of the cryptocurrency.”  Croix looked away, a grim expression on her face.  “What followed was my single greatest failure.  It’s funny, thinking about it-”  It probably wasn’t at all funny, judging by her tone.  “-because I was always the one to rally us and give the motivational speeches.   _I_ was the one who first called us revolutionaries, and who came up with plans to fight the government.  But once e-coins had become a reality, our society cemented in the digital, I – I _stumbled_ , and it was then that Chariot took the lead.  She shouldn’t have – she shouldn’t have been able to – but she proved herself in the most spectacular way.”  Croix leaned against the safe and paused to look up at the ceiling.  “Echo, are you familiar with Team Polaris?”

“Uh.  The infamous thieves that tried to steal six hundred billion e-coins, and then went missing?”

“The government spread propaganda saying Team Polaris was captured and the key to the billions lost forever.  They had no choice in the matter, if they wanted people to maintain faith in the new currency.  But none of that is true.  Team Polaris was led by Chariot.  The other members consisted of Fafnir Volsunga, and I.”

Akko rubbed her eyes and sat down.  “Chariot.  That name isn’t very common, is it?”

“Of course not.”

“And – and she disappeared around the same time.”

“She?”

“The theft... people were calling it impossible.  Like – like magic.”

“Oh.”  Croix shrugged.  “Yeah, Chariot had a magic gig on the side.  Made good money.  Don’t rightfully know why she stopped, but don’t care, either.”

“The leader of Team Polaris is Shiny Chariot?” Akko muttered.

“Never liked the name.  I kept telling her that, up until she dumped a bucket of glitter on her head.  Even weeks later, I was still finding-”  Croix coughed and cleared her throat.  “Anyways, under Chariot’s guidance, we stole six hundred billion e-coins from government wallets.  The three of us, however, had no interest in the money.  It was too much power, and we all recognized it would corrupt and destroy us, so we made a unanimous decision.  We would store these funds in a publicly viewable wallet of our own.  To this day, every e-coin we stole is still there.  The wallet’s address is watched very closely by a great many people.  Our economy balances on the belief that the private key to the wallet was lost, and thus the money was cast into an irretrievable void.  Software and AI that trade on the stock market have this address hard-coded in, and will shut down if ever a single coin leaves the wallet.

“It’s all so fragile, and they’re all so wrong.  The private key was never lost.  It was entrusted to Fafnir, as the oldest member of Team Polaris.”  She turned and slapped the safe.  “And, now, it’s right here.”

“Six hundred billion?” Akko said.

 _Ohhhh, not good not good not good_.  Already, Akko wished she had the money.  Ideas kept springing to mind on how to use it – buy physical coins, pour in pool, swim; buy gasoline, pour on fire, orgasm; buy lots of food, pour in mouth, puke – but she knew that was the last thing on earth Big F wanted.  He always talked about money, but he was frugal and never spent it on his whims and desires.  Besides, even if she hadn’t known this about him, it was pretty obvious from Croix’s story that he didn’t want the funds spent.

“I have one last thing to tell you,” Croix said, watching her closely.  “It won’t be pretty, but it’s the truth.  The reason Fafnir left Rastavan was because he was planning to spend the money.”

And Akko was officially justified.  The floodgate was opening.  The time for coins, fire, and food was fast approaching.

“He was?” she said.  “Why?”

“I confess, I understand where he was coming from.  It’s the government, again.  They’re about to implement something much worse than a cryptocurrency.  It’s called the Social Percentage Plan.  Every citizen will be assigned a percentage point that represents their value, relative to other humans.  Fafnir approached us, saying he wanted to move the e-coins and buy as much as we could of _everything_ , thereby spiralling the economy into chaos and collapsing the nation.”

Putting value on human life?  The government had to be at least aware enough to realize such an attempt wouldn’t go over well, no?  Or maybe they had so much power, they just didn’t care anymore.  Either way, if this was all true, then the time for action was running out – something Big F had known well.

“In fact,” Croix continued, “the government is discussing when to implement the Social Percentage Plan this very minute.  It’s unfortunate, but by this time next year, you and I will be but a number.  Well, maybe not you – you’re Zapped.”

Croix waited, as if she’d had expectations from Akko, but in all honestly, Akko _had just fudging woke up_ and was still trying to understand _six hundred billion_ .  Six hundred billion in secure, nontaxable dollars that was sitting in a safe – _of which she knew the combination – not ten meters from her bed_ .  And that wasn’t even starting on her childhood hero being… being _that_.

“You – you didn’t kill him, did you?” Akko finally said.

“Fafnir?  Lord, no.  He was a friend.  So was Chariot.   _Was_.  She works for the government now.  I do not say this lightly, but I believe she may have had part in Fafnir’s death.  She wants to return the money to the government – the rightful owner, according to her.  For this reason, I fear Chariot will come for the safe.  It cannot remain here.  I have a warehouse on the other side of town-”

“No.”

“No?  What do you intend on doing, then?  This is soon to be government property, in case you’ve forgotten.  If you don’t move the safe, they will swarm in here and take it.  Coincidentally, that blonde girl you were hanging out with, her name is Diana Cavendish.  Maybe I should have mentioned it earlier, but she’s also a government employee.  She may not be aware of the true nature of the situation, but she was investigating Fafnir for money laundering.”

Croix didn’t have the full story there, but it reminded Akko of the previous day, which she had tried not to think about because it was so darn confusing.  Now, she realized how vulnerable things were.  After trying to burn down Diana’s house, there was a decent (one hundred percent) chance that Diana would have a change of heart and the crypto-something-something task force would swoop in and take the safe.  Leaving Akko with six hundred billion e-coins was not something an angry person would do.

“You need to move it,” Croix said.

“I have another place in mind.”

Croix bristled.  “I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough, Echo.  Six hundred _billion_.”

“Big F told me about the safe.  It can’t be broken into – or, well, it _can_ , but the contents will all be destroyed if it’s opened by force.  With Big F... not around, nobody can open it.  It’s completely safe, here, there, anywhere.”

“Then let me take it.  Don’t underestimate the government.”

“No.  It’s my responsibility.  I’ll handle.”

Croix looked to the safe, then back to Akko, who half expected her to snap her fingers, summoning Marcus and Markem to put a couple holes in her.  But instead, Croix sighed.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “You were Fafnir’s assistant.  Even if he didn’t give you the combination, he obviously trusted you.  By giving you this shop, I imagine you’re right – passing the responsibility onto you _was_ his intention.”  She took a piece of paper out of her pocket and set it atop the safe.  “My number.  If you need any assistance, give me a call.”

 

* * *

 

Akko left shortly after Croix.

It nearly killed her, leaving six hundred billion e-coins behind, but she now understood what Diana had been talking about.

_It’s all gone out of control._

_I came here thinking I should destroy it, but it’s not fair, is it, for me to make such a decision?_

And, wow, that was a duck move, pushing the responsibility onto Akko.  In what world would a moralist leave the future of a nation in the hands of a pyromaniac?  That, and considering Diana’s strategy the other day, made Akko think maybe Diana wasn’t so unshakeable.

Or maybe, and Akko didn’t know if she should take pride in it or not, but maybe she had corrupted Diana a little bit.

But none of that helped Akko’s current situation, which was on the edge of causing more chaos than any eighteen year old should have been capable of.

Going to Lotte for support was a questionable idea.  Lotte was the voice of reason, but her faeries were not.  Yet Akko was fine gambling away the fate of the nation on this chance, because she really needed a friend right about now.

Lotte was in the junkyard next to Amanda’s place.  The junkyard was a common hangout for the trio, because Lotte had her firing range, Akko could tend to a fire in the large fire pit, and Sucy could test her drugs to her heart’s content.  Occasionally, less savoury people dropped by – such as Amanda, and... well, Amanda – and they’d get the fire going real good and then cook a dinner over the coals of its aftermath.

(Akko didn’t like to use the word _bonfire_.  Sucy had once told her its etymology.  From the sixteenth century _banefyre_ , it was a fire where bones were burned.  Akko did not burn bones, and it rubbed her the wrong way to hear that word used for her fires.)

Lotte was practising.  She had a handgun in each hand and fired a dozen shots in rapid succession before reloading.  Or rather, attempting to.  Around her waist appeared to be a custom-made belt – an ugly, bulky thing with easy access magazines – and she tried to slot the magazines in simultaneously, but ended up knocking them to the ground, where she stomped on them and growled in frustration.

That was the Lotte nobody saw.

She heard Akko’s footsteps and turned around.  Without setting either of her guns down, she rushed over.

“Thank God you’re safe,” she said, wrapping her arms around Akko.  The hard metal pressing on her back was only a little distracting (and a little comforting, as weird as it sounded).  “I thought the government got you, and was getting ready.”

“They didn’t,” Akko mumbled.

Her throat constricted.  She’d already cried enough, but now she felt guilty for not letting Lotte know she was fine.  Her friend had been ready to take on the government, alone, while Akko was busy obsessing over Diana, fire, and money.

Lotte redoubled the strength of her hug.  “I’m so sorry about your uncle.  I know how close you two were.”  She broke off the hug and took a step back.  “You need to tell me what happened.”

Akko nodded and looked around for a somewhere to sit.  And then she realized it wasn’t only Lotte who was present.  Sucy was sitting on a gutted drying machine next to the shooting range.  They stared at each other for a moment before Akko took a hesitant step forward.  Did Sucy even remember what she did?

“The past is in the past,” Sucy said.  “Let bygones be bygones.  Forgive and forget.  Friends are forever.  Live and let live.”

She remembered alright.

The last idiom didn’t quite fit, but Akko didn’t point that out because Sucy was right.  Being friends with her meant dealing with all her bullpoop.  Though this was maybe the worst Akko had experienced, being on the receiving end, it wasn’t the most memorable.  In fact, the physical pain she had experienced this time had been quite minor – only some bruised and sore wrists – compared to the usual outcome.

Lotte looked uncomfortable.  “Um – am I missing something, here?”

“No,” Sucy said.

Akko took a seat on the hood of an old, rusted car carcass.  “She drugged me.”

“Oh.”  Lotte sighed in relief.  “She’s done that plenty of times.”

“At the prison.”

“Oh.”  And then:  “ _Oh_.  She hasn’t done that before.”

“First time for everything,” Sucy interrupted.  “Now, Akko fucked up big time, so let’s focus on how to set things right and save Rastavan.”

“Actually,” Akko said.  “There’s something else we need to talk about.  Something more important.”

Sucy hopped off the dryer.  “I’m listening.”

Lotte looked around, a wide smile on her face.  “Tell us, tell us.  The faeries are curious.”

 


	13. Spread Gas

Akko recounted as much as she could to Lotte and Sucy, except for the kiss.  The more Akko thought about it, the worse it was.

It should have been amazing – and in the moment it  had been – but in the aftermath, all she could feel was that she had irreparably ruined their relationship – if it hadn’t already been ruined before.  She wasn’t sure exactly how to define what had happened, but it almost seemed like blackmail.

_ Kiss me or I burn your house down. _

Great.  Just great.

But she would need to worry about it another day, because there was money to retrieve.  That was the general consensus, between Lotte and Sucy.  Beyond that, there were differing opinions.

Sucy backed a plan to spend the money,  never-minding the resulting chaos.  In ideal circumstances, her plan was much more complicated.

They would set up a series of transactions, purchasing untraceable cryptocurrencies with the six hundred billion e-coins.  A couple percent would be lost in transactions costs, and then, once it was all converted, they would take a large sum for themselves.  The rest of it would then be converted  _ back _ into e-coins and delivered to some key  people’s accounts, as well as a  handful  of other random accounts.

People would notice this influx of cash and attempt to follow it back to its source, but would hit a wall when they found it had originated from an untraceable currency.  It wouldn’t take much to find the timeline suspicious: the famed Team Polaris wallet was emptied and then, minutes later, large amounts of untraceable money found itself into the pockets of politicians and government officials.  After that, the bribery theories (a s well as more insane conspiracy theories)  would start popping up, and riots would follow.

Lotte, on the other hand, supported a more defensive strategy.  If the government left Rastavan alone and abandoned the Social Percentage Plan, then they would have no cause to stir up more trouble.  Otherwise, they make a simple threat –  an anonymous tip submitted to the government.  Even if her plan seemed a little optimistic, Akko liked it much more.

Together, the three of them left the junkyard in silence.  It was a weird atmosphere in their group that Akko couldn’t quite pin down.  There was a little bit of disbelief – and honestly, Akko would hold onto that until she actually accessed the funds with the private key – and a whole lot of trepidation.  Up until now, they had always laid low, and never picked fights they couldn’t win.  This was  unprecedented and  dangerous.

Lotte had her backpack of guns, looking for all the world an innocent, nerdy school girl with large rimless glasses,  heading home from  another day of school.  Sucy was wearing a lab coat, as always – Akko had once seen inside her closet, and its contents weren’t surprising – and her pockets clinked with  every step.  How many vials of mysterious liquids she held, no one knew.  But if she tripped, the whole block would probably have to be quarantined.

As for Akko, she didn’t have guns or dangerous liquids.  There was a matchbox in her pocket, which she always carried around, but that was it.   I f she wanted to be melodramatic, she could say she was weighed down by heavy thoughts.

As they got closer to the coffee shop, Akko grew tenser.  Her eyes wouldn’t stop moving – checking the alleyways, the windows of every building, and all the vehicles parked on the street – as though anyone who saw her knew what she was going to do.  But nothing was awry.  It was a normal afternoon, if a little warm compared to last week.  The news said they were in for a bad winter, though, and Akko did not look forward to that.

The three of them stopped on the opposite side of the road from the coffee shop.  The place looked abandoned, with its broken glass.  Inside, someone was pacing back and forth, unaware that she was now being observed.  Akko groaned aloud.  Nothing could ever be simple.

“That’s her,” Sucy said.  “I washed her clothes for her, and then she tricks me.  Bitch.”

“It was for my own good,” Akko said.

“Was it?  A government employee acting in your best interests?  And then you try to burn her house down?”

“I’ve been under a lot of stress lately.  Cut me some slack.”

“You said it yourself.  You ‘kinda sorta just a little bit might like’ her.  That’s why you failed to burn her house down, Akko.  You’re biased .  You’re  defending her, even though she’s here for revenge.”

“Revenge?”  Akko frowned.  “She wouldn’t.  And in my defence, it’s kinda hard not to  ‘ kinda sorta just a little bit like ’ her.  She’s really pretty and has a lovely voice and she’s smart and always challenging me and making me think and she was nice to me even though I didn’t deserve it and-”

“But that’s all because she wanted access to the safe,” Lotte said.

“But – but…”   Akko deflated.  “ _ N _ _ o _ .  I don’t wanna believe that.  She kept offering to help me, to get m e away from Rastavan because she thinks it’s a bad influence.”

“It’s not a good one,” Sucy  said .  “And now she’s here, and I doubt it’s to take you away somewhere safe – unless that place is prison.  So, who wants to take bets on what her intentions are?”

They watched Diana for a few more seconds.  She was still pacing back and forth, at a speed that wasn’t quite walking or running, but some agitated middle ground.

“She looks troubled,” Lotte said.  “And very angry.”

“Thank you, Lotte,” Sucy said.  “But I think we all can see that.”

“She also seems to be alone.”

“Agreed,” Sucy said.  “We can take her.”

“But it might be a trap.”  Lotte dropped her backpack and started digging inside.  “Maybe we should get Wire.  Amanda, Constanze, and Jasminka, too.”

“No,” Akko said.  “I-”   _ What?  Trust her? _  “I think she really is alone.  She’s not dangerous.  Besides, I want to at least try to make her not hate me.”

Sucy, though she didn’t say anything or give any kind of warning, was the first to cross the road.  Considering she was carrying a grudge for being tricked, it  wouldn’t be  smart to let her open the dialogue.  Akko rushed after her.  She heard Lotte sigh before zipping up her backpack and following.

Akko  made it across the road first .  Even before she  got inside the shop, the crunch of glass underfoot gave her presence away.  Diana stopped and looked up, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights.

Akko took a second to catch her breath –  _ wow _ , she was out of shape.  “Did – did you change your mind?  Are you here for the private key?”

Diana took a step back, eyeing Sucy and Lotte.  “No.  This – this was a mistake.  I ’m not here for anything.  I’m  leaving.”

She started moving towards the door, probably wanting out before Sucy blocked the exit.  As she passed  by , Akko had the sudden urge to reach out and forcefully stop her, beg for her forgiveness, beg for an explanation, beg for something more, anything more, but she couldn’t bring herself to touch Diana.  It felt like it would be crossing some sort of line, after what had happened last time.

Physical contact was out of the question, but she still had her voice.

“Wait!” Akko shouted.

Diana stopped.

“I – I’m sorry,” Akko said.  “Like, really really sorry, even though I know it’s not enough, but – but I’ll make it up to you!”  She looked around wildly for inspiration, before clapping her hands together.  “I got it!  You can burn down the coffee shop!”

Somehow, Diana seemed to relax at the suggestion.  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s only fair,” Akko said.  It was a stroke of genius on her part, and with a skip in her step, she retrieved  can of gas from the storage closet.  “Here,” she said, offering it to Diana.

“I am not going to resort to such depraved behaviour,” Diana said, crossing her arms.

“Please?” Akko said.  “I – I think I did something really bad to you – no, I  _ know  _ I did – and this is the only way I know to make it up.”

“Don’t get us mixed up,” Diana said.

That wasn’t outright refusal, which was a good sign.  Akko thought about it a moment before nodding.  It was basic fire safety.  “You’re right.  Novices shouldn’t handle the fuel.  That’s fine, then.  I’ll spread it, you light it.  It’s like this.”  Akko tipped the can, pouring the liquid out with ease.   “You keep the nozzle low to the ground, so it doesn’t splash on your clothes.  Spread it around – you don’t need a lot in any single place.  It’s good exercise – make sure you stretch your arms out so none of the gas gets under your feet.  You wouldn’t want your shoes to catch-”

Diana leapt forward, ripping the can out of Akko’s hands and throwing it aside.  “ _ Unbelievable! _ ”

Akko blinked at her.  “Oh.  That’s enough fuel, I guess.  Matchstick or lighter?”  She retrieved both options from her pocket and held them out.

“I refuse.”

The lighter was the best choice for a beginner, and Akko tossed it towards Diana, who caught it out of reflex.

“Hold on,” Sucy said, digging in her pocket before pulling out a vial of liquid.  “If we’re burning the place down, I have accelerant for that.”

Akko was offended that Sucy had never offered her accelerant for the prison break, or any other time.  Not that she needed any additives.  Her gasoline fires burned fine on their own, thank you very much.  In fact, for this fire in particular, she didn’t want anything weird.  It needed to be a normal burn.

“We don’t need it, Sucy,” Akko said.

Sucy seemed to sulk, but Akko knew she wasn’t the least bit upset.

“Light it,” Akko said to Diana.  “Then just drop it over the gas and step away quickly.  It won’t be  gratifying or  addicting for you, because you’re normal, but the first time is always exhil arating .  Go ahead.” 

“No.”

“Do you want me to do it?  But I’m not sure it will count.  I mean, I guess if you say it counts...”

Akko lit a match of her own.  She stared at the stick for a few long seconds, watching the flame waver and burn.  And then she looked up at Diana, who seemed  to be angrier than before .

“You don’t need to think so hard about it,” Akko said.   “Just let the flames burn your thoughts away.  It’s kinda nice.”

Diana opened her mouth, perhaps to voice another complaint, but then seemed to have a better idea.  She rose her hand  in a deliberate motion and  slapped Akko.

 


	14. Chapter 14

Akko had good fire discipline, but not  _ that _ good.

The shock of Diana touching her (something she had thought forbidden, since last time)  made her hand  release .  Everyone in the room watched in horror as the match plummeted towards the floor.

If real life had had a recurring theme, then the match would have fallen onto the gas, the room would have erupted in flames, and Diana would have had some very choice words for Akko.  T here would be another kiss somewhere in the mix, too.  But, as luck would have it, Akko hadn’t poured any  fuel on the ground between herself and Diana, so the match hit the floor in a deathly silence.

Its flame winked out a second later, and, for the briefest of moments, Akko was sad.

Lotte sighed in relief, and the room’s tension dissipated a s quickly as it had arrived .

But Akko’s shock didn’t leave.  It stayed there, next to the fires of her mind.  A stray thought braved its way forward.   _ Wasn’t this a repeat of before? _  Akko losing herself to the promise of fire, acting without thinking, and then pressuring Diana into a bad situation?  Wasn’t learning from her mistakes supposed to be how she grew up?  Big F had told her that, once upon a time.  And this … this wasn’t learning.

(Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered Sucy pouring out a vial of liquid onto the floor, and then kneeling down and doing something out of sight.)

Diana didn’t work well under pressure – either that, or she lacked common sense – and she looked a little alarmed at what she’d done.  Her gaze kept moving from the match on the ground to her hand and back again.  Akko considered taking the opportunity to explain the basics of fire safety, but it probably wouldn’t have been appreciated.

“Even by my standards, that was pretty reckless,” Sucy said.

“I don’t need to hear that from you,” Diana s napped .  “Rather, try to feel ashamed that you were going to let your friend burn her livelihood down, will you?   _ And, Atsuko _ , what was your plan beyond burning the shop down?”

“I – I hadn’t thought that far,” Akko said.

“Would it kill you, to stop and think about it even for a second?  This is  _ your _ house and  _ your  _ job.  You can’t burn it to the ground because you feel  bad about something.”

“Akko,” Lotte said, stepping forward.  “In this case, I think she’s right.  You live here.  That’s not really something you should forget.”

Akko nodded.

“You look a little pale,” Lotte added.  “Are you feeling okay?”

Akko contemplated the question.  She was feeling an abnormal amount of stress, but there was more, too .  She was feeling shame.  When was the last time she’d felt shame?  When her parents had been around, probably.

Pyromania was treatable – she’d been shown the statistics on it – and it was even more treatable as a child.  But she was eighteen now, and the situation hadn’t improved in the least.  The thoughts were pervasive, and the lack of control not something she could fight.

But still, there had been another reason behind wanting to burn down the coffee shop.

Big F had passed away in South Leaf Penitentiary, and he wouldn’t be getting a funeral (even if the city had provided one, it wouldn’t have been safe to attend).  But having no funeral was a sad thing, so  the thought of creating one had  occurred to her .  Without a body, though, it wouldn’t have technically been a funeral, but maybe a memorial service, or something?  In  either case, s he needed the closure, and didn’t need the coffee shop and its reminders.

Akko sighed.  “My uncle died, my neighbourhood is going to be destroyed, and I have six hundred billion e-coins in my safe .   Do you think I’m okay?”

“Okay,” Lotte said.  “That was a silly question.  But just  remember, you still have us.  You always will.  T hings will be fine in the end.”

Diana looked uncomfortable as she made towards the door.  “I shall now take my leave,” she said.  “As hard as it may seem, try not to burn down the world, Akko.”

“Hold on.”  Lotte moved to block the door.  “We need answers to some things before we can let you  leave .  You seem to know a lot, but you haven’t  _ done  _ a lot.  How did you learn the wallet’s private key is in Big F’s safe?”

“An anonymous tip,” Diana said,  suddenly tense . “They said Team Polaris’ private key wasn’t lost, but was in a safe in a laundromat in Rastavan.”

“And once you found the safe, why didn’t you report it?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Diana said, motioning around.  “This is a coffee shop, not a laundromat.  It was complete chance that I found  _ a _ safe here, and there was no reason to believe it was  _ the  _ safe, if such a safe actually existed.”

“So you did nothing?” Lotte challenged.

“It’s been four years since the theft.  There was no reason to rush.  I took my time to investigate the situation, rather than waste my team’s resources on some anonymous tip.”

“And what did you find?”

“Big F ha d a history of participating in protests against the government.  His activity around the time of the theft was highly suspicious, and two days after the theft, he purchased the safe.  Other evidence, too, points towards Big F’s involvement in Team Polaris’s theft.”

Lotte looked pointedly at Akko.  “Final question, then.  Why have you done nothing, if you know all this?”

Diana shook her head and remained silent.

“You’re not leaving until you answer.”

“Lotte, let her go,” Akko said.  As much as she wanted to know the truth, she’d already forced Diana into too many difficult situations.

“It’s fine, Atsuko,” Diana said, taking a deep breath.  “I’ve done nothing because I have doubts.  What I had been taught growing up conflicts with what I’ve seen this past week, and... and that’s it.  I would rather someone who is familiar with hardships to have possession of the safe, as opposed to the government.  One day, the technology may exist to access the  money , but for now it needs to be protected.”

“Okay,” Lotte said.  “You can go now.”

Diana gave Akko one last meaningful look – perhaps trying to say, don’t fudge it up too badly – and then turned and walked away.  Or, rather, she started to.  And then Sucy spoke.

“Time to spend some dough.  We’re going with my plan, right?  As the one who suggested it, I believe I’m entitled to a small percent, to aid in my research.  One hundred billion.  What do you say?”

Diana spun around.  “Atsuko doesn’t  have the combination to the safe,” she said.  “The money is irretrievable at the moment.”

Akko saw what was coming next (maybe she was psychic, or maybe she was just friends with Sucy).  But, like the first time they’d met, when Diana was about to drink the sugar poison, Akko did nothing.  She couldn’t help herself; it was curiosity towards the unknown.

“Right,” Sucy drawled.  “That’s why we’re here.  To  _ not _ open the safe.”

Diana crossed her arms.  “If you force it open, the contents will be destroyed.  You would need a team of specialists and months of work, and even then it might not be possible.  I spoke with the company that makes the safe – they’re the foremost security company in the business, and this safe is their best product.”

“Rather than us overcoming such a mighty obstacle,” Sucy said.  “Do you think, maybe, just possibly, it’s more likely that Akko lied to you?”

Diana opened her mouth and closed it again a few times, her eyes flickering to Akko’s feet and then  away .

“Atsuko knows the combination?” she said to Lotte.

Akko sighed.  “Yeah.”

“And she plans on spending the money?”

“Can you please just ask  _ me _ ?” Akko said.  “I promise I’ll put my fire problems on the back burner.”

Diana didn’t seem to appreciate the promise, and she still looked to Lotte when she spoke.  “Did she think this through properly?  Knowing the damage it could cause? And she’s still going to do it?”

“Sucy was joking,” Akko said.  “We aren’t actually going to do anything.  Not unless the government forces our hand.”

“Lotte, please explain.”

“The Social Percentage Plan,” Lotte said.

“Social Percentage Plan?  What is that?”

“The government’s attempt to place value on human lives.  Everyone will be  given a public ally known percentage that  corresponds to  their  worth .  Uned ucated and the old would have lower values, and students – and probably politicians and government employees – would have higher ones. ”

“I see.  And Atsuko would be valued at one percent.  I understand her cause for concern, but isn’t collapsing society a little too egocentric, even for her?”

“No such thing as too egocentric,” Sucy said.  “Besides, she’s Zapped.  Atsuko’s percent means a big fat zero to her – and, coincidentally, it will be a big fat zero.  One percent is too generous – have you seen her rap sheet? ”

“Zapped? ” Diana said slowly. “ We’re talking about Atsuko, here. ”

“Zapped , ” S ucy confirmed.

Diana,  eyes wide , finally spoke to Akko.  “Is this true? _ Why _ ?”

“Yeah.  It’s kinda true.  As for the why... I wish I knew ,” Akko said.

And that was the terrifying truth.  After Akko had burned down the school building, things had passed in a blur.  She’d been thrown around from police to doctors to psychiatrists to government officials to doctors to judges and back to the police again.  It was around this time her parents had decided to  leave the country .  Whether they had planned on taking her or not didn’t matter, since, once she was finally free, she found herself unable to even take the bus home.  All of a sudden, she didn’t exist.

Most Zapped were Zapped by choice.  The government didn’t use it as a punishment, because it would only contribute to the vagrant population – people who deserved punishment were executed or put to work at a prison farm.  Zap ping problem makers would only make it harder to  track them.

So ultimately, there was no reason for Akko to have walked away from the whole situation Zapped.  But it had happened – in her sleep, for all she knew –  and it had completely changed her life.   G raduating high school had become impossible, as well as university – and darn it, for some reason she  _ really _ wanted to experience life as an undergraduate.

Diana seemed more  upset than Akko would have expected, though.  Lotte and Sucy hadn’t reacted much  when they had been told , and maybe Akko had come to expect indifference.

“Zapped,” Diana finally whispered.  “I had no idea.”

And a silence descended upon the four girls.  Sucy had her hands in her pockets, doing God knew what .  Diana seemed lost in thought, no longer posturing defensively against Sucy.

Lotte stepped outside, looked both ways down the road, and returned before fidgeting with her hands.  Akko knew how she felt: so much money, so close by.  And Akko felt more, too.  Since her failed – and confusing – attempt at burning Diana’s house, the need to scratch her itch was growing stronger, multiplied by six hundred billion.  And _that_ was unbearable.

“Well,” Sucy said.  “Now that Miss Government knows all this, maybe it’s best to keep her on a leash.  I don’t trust her.”

Lotte nodded .  “I agree, too.  If we let her out of sight, she might cause trouble for us.”

“She won’t,” Akko said.  “You won’t,  right , Diana?”

Diana cleared her throat.  “I  no longer have any intentions of leaving.”

“Wait, what?”

“I need to see this with my own eyes.”

“We should blindfold her, too,” Sucy said, smirking.

Diana glared.

“Well… if she’s staying, then let’s open the safe,” Akko said, motioning towards the back door before Sucy could act on the suggestion.  More Diana was good.  Could never have too much Diana.

Once she unlocked  the door , the four of them filed inside, and all eyes went to the safe.

Almost in a daze, Akko approached the corner of the room.  Everyone else hung back, even though Akko would have preferred the support of having them close by.

The metal box was tall and thin, like a gun safe, and, according to Diana, state-of-the-art.  The passcode could be up to sixty-four digits long, and if anyone attempted to open it by brute force, the contents would be destroyed in an acid explosion (Sucy, who had made herself at home on the futon, smiled at this).  As Akko knelt down by the safe, a wave of nausea  stopped her.

“Akko?” Lotte said.

“Just wondering if maybe I misheard the passcode.  That would kinda really suck.”

“You mean he didn’t write it down?” Diana said.  “ What, did he casually mention it over dinner one day ?”

“Hey, don’t judge,” Akko said, trying to hide her surprise at  the accuracy of Diana’s guess .  “I had no idea what was inside at the time.”

But it wasn’t only her fear of having misheard that made her sick.  It was her need for fire, or a need for less stress – she could no longer tell the difference at this point in her life.

As for the passcode, it wasn’t 5318008, but it also wasn’t much better – actually, worse by Akko’s standards.  Certainly not something worthy of its contents.  Akko brought a finger up to the keypad, noticing for the first time how badly her hands shook.  She laughed – even that exuded nervousness – and began inputting the combination.

“You lied.”

The voice made Akko stop and turn.

Croix stood in the doorway to the room.

 


	15. Past Crime

Chariot, Croix, and Fafnir were in the computer lab at lunch, as always.

Fafnir was at the large desk at the front of the room, which could oversee the array of desktop computers.  He taught computer science, as well as basic computer literacy courses, and had been the first to truly challenge Croix – in programming, chess, and political views.

Thin and tall, Fafnir had no problem being the stereotypical geek with a turtleneck shirt and large glasses.  Croix couldn’t help but feel sorry for him – earlier last week, Chariot had claimed to have plucked a grey hair from his head.  Croix might have dismissed it as a silly lie, if Fafnir had tried to deny it, but he had kept his silence.  There would be lots of grey in his future.

As for Chariot, her hair was as bright red as usual.  She wore a green wool sweater that probably itched and had been handmade by her grandmother.  The colours reminded Croix of Christmas, and then she wondered if she would ever be able to convince Chariot to dress up as a sexy elf during the holidays (and if Croix had thought about it for another second, she would have realized it would have been as easy as saying the word ‘elf’).

Lunch hour had just begun, and an unsuspecting Chariot sat down at a computer, took out her sandwich, and began eating.  She opened the web browser and went to a reputable news site.  The featured article: _body of missing woman found on farm – you’ll never believe what the autopsy uncovered!_

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to click that,” Croix said.

Chariot took a bite of her sandwich and clicked the link.  Croix groaned.  Still, she couldn’t help but read over Chariot’s shoulder.  And, as much of a click-bait the title was, she _did_ have a hard time believing it.  The woman had been missing for over twenty-six years, and her bones had been found to be contaminated with nuclear radiation.  A giant investigated had been launched, and it seemed the site was being linked to multiple people with chronic radiation syndrome.  The government wouldn’t be able to weasel their way out of something like that.  If it was an illegal nuclear waste dump, the lawsuit would be far into the millions.

When they finished reading the article, Croix nodded to Fafnir, and he closed and locked the door.  They were the only three people in the lab, and it would remain that way until the next bell.  Chariot was trapped.  She looked up at the sound of the door closing and then returned her interest to her sandwich and the news.  She wasn’t yet aware.

“Let’s talk,” Croix said.

Chariot swallowed her food.  “Sure.  Did you see that article the other day on the Pleurotus Whiteapple?  Who would believe a mushroom could grant immortality?”

“I read that,” Croix said.  “Immortality, maybe not, but the fungus _was_ used as anti aging medicine before it went extinct.”

“A load of hocus-pocus.”

“You would know best,” Croix said with a smile.

It only took a second before she realized how easily she had been duped into changing the conversation.  She could feel Fafnir’s stare.

Croix cleared her throat.  “But that’s not what I want to talk about.  Have you heard about the new government research lab in Durham?”

She would never admit it, but she had outlined what she was about to say, and memorized the more convincing lines that had come out of a practice essay she had written on it.  This was a critical moment in her life – and in Chariot’s life, if things went well – and she could only hope it would all work out.

For the next ten minutes, Croix spoke nonstop.  The laboratory was new enough that security still wasn’t set up properly.  Someone online claimed they worked at a government shipping facility that had forwarded a cargo of illegal drugs to the new Durham lab.  Further discussions in an online forum led some people to believe they were experimenting on prisoners from the nearby prison.  If something like that hit the news, it would be impossible to cover up, and would draw the attention of the United Nations.  Croix then explained that the opening wouldn’t always be there, and _they_ had to act soon, if the truth was to come out.

“Are you serious?” Chariot said, once she was done.

Croix needed to shut the doubt down, and quickly.  “Chariot.  What were thirty-four thousand people doing last Friday?”

“Protesting online censorship.”

“Correct.  Thirty-four thousand people swarmed the highway in protest.  What were _we_ doing during that time?”

Chariot paused as the realization occurred to her.  Defeated, she voiced it anyways.  “Writing a history test.”

“We’ve joked about it before.  How we could accomplish more than anyone, because we _know_ what needs to be done.  Even if their protests are ineffective, at least they’re trying.  We’ve done fuck all but talk about it.  That needs to come to an end.  Fafnir already agreed.”

Fafnir nodded silently.

“And I’ve started working on some plans,” Croix said.  “We’ll hash it out at my place after school.”

There was no need to ask Chariot if she was in.  By the looks of it, she’d already been convinced.  And even if she tried to change her mind, Croix always had other ways to convince her girlfriend.

 

* * *

  

Two years since they had formed Team Polaris, and T minus sixteen hours until their most ambitious plan went live.  Sixteen full hours – a night worth of sleep and more – yet Croix’s nerves were already getting to her.  She wasn’t even going to be in direct danger; she would be sitting behind a computer screen, completely safe from any retaliation the government wanted to launch.

Yet still, it would be a sleepless night.

Unfortunately, there was nothing to do.  The plan didn’t have a hundred percent chance of success, but they had worked on it and perfected every possible aspect, and every possible backup plan, until they knew it all by heart.  And now, with the e-coin currency being only a month from being deployed, it was too late to make any changes.

This didn’t stop Croix from scrolling through the documents, though.  Her eyes roamed every word in every document and every line in every blueprint.

That was, until a pair of arms wrapped around her chest, squeezing her.

For a moment, Croix panicked, but then she recognized the arms and remembered she’d left the bathroom window open.

“Fuck, Chariot, you’re going to give me a heart attack.”

“You’re too young for that,” Chariot said, resting her chin on Croix’s shoulder.  “Now, what’re you doing?  It looks complicated.  You should be sleeping.”

“Don’t be telling me what to do.   _You’re_ not sleeping.  And you need it the most.”

“Can’t,” Chariot said.  “I’m scared.”

This blunt admission wasn’t out of the ordinary – Chariot wasn’t one to hide her feelings.  It was how they’d gotten involved in the first place, despite Croix’s resistance.  Still, the words contradicted Chariot’s calm demeanor.

“Toughen up,” Croix said.  “I’ll grab some sleeping pills from downstairs if you need.  You can stay here tonight.”

“I don’t want pills.”

“Fine.  Then why are you even here?  Get off me.”

Though she couldn’t see, she knew Chariot was now smiling.

“Get you off?” Chariot whispered into her ear.  “Yes, master.  Anything for you.”

Croix sighed.  Chariot really had to stretch for that one, didn’t she?  And her acting skills hadn’t declined a bit since high school drama club.  The nervousness – hinted at by a slight quiver to her voice – and seductive tone – if there was a faster way to get Croix in the mood, she didn’t know of it.

And now Croix knew what Chariot wanted – and, in retrospect, it was pretty obvious.

Shrugging off Chariot’s hug, she spun around in her chair, and Chariot wasted no time initiating the kiss.  This wasn’t even completely for Chariot – Croix realized that this was the best way to sooth her nerves, too.  Having her girlfriend close, in the hours before they risked it all.

But this, too, was a risk.  Chariot pushed the chair back, and it rammed into the desk.  Her lamp wobbled a moment before it fell down with a crash.

“Careful,” Croix hissed.  “You’re going to wake my parents.”

“Makes it more exciting, no?”  Chariot reached out and flicked a book off the desk.

Croix stood up, taking them away from the desk.  “Whatever happened to the master-servant role playing?” she said.

Chariot looked thoughtful.  “I’m sorry, master.  I deserve to be punished.”

And damn, Croix was a sucker for those kinds of words.  She tackled Chariot onto the bed.

 

* * *

 

“Hmm, that was amazing,” Chariot said.

Croix tightened her embrace.  “You still scared?”

“Not here.  Not now.  But fear is useful, and I’m sure I’ll be plenty afraid when the time comes.”

“Chariot-”

“But I still want to get a maid costume.  I wonder where we can buy one,” she mused.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Croix said, letting the topic change.  “Where would you keep it?”

“Under your bed, obviously.”

“My bed?  How would I explain that to my parents?”

“Just don’t let them find it.  Besides, that’s where we keep the cuffs.”

“And that’s still a risk I don’t approve of.”

“We’ve been doing it for almost two years now.  Your parents know.  Believe me.  Remember that pancake breakfast morning?”

Croix winced.  “That was a sleepover.  And we were studying.”

Chariot nodded into her arms.  “Sure.   _Studying_.  If that’s what you want to call it.”

“Quit trying to make it sound suggestive.  We did study, in case you’ve forgotten.  The only reason you passed calculus.”

Chariot groaned.  “Remind me again why I took the course.”

“According to you, it was to sit next to me.”

“You’re right.”  Chariot rolled over to face her and smiled.  “Worth it.”

“Not to me.  You’re enough of a distraction outside of class.”

Chariot motioned for her to turn around, which she did, and a few seconds later, fingers began running through her hair, like a comb.  Sometimes they would pinch at the hair near her scalp, and then follow the tress through all the way to the end.

It was a pointless activity, but Chariot always did it anyway.  Since the very first time, in fact.  At first, Croix had found it weird, but at some point she had started looking forward to it (not that she would admit it).  And now that it was a familiar part of their after-sex cuddling, neither of them found the need to even speak.

With the clock out of sight, time passed lazily and the next day seemed so far off.  Her earlier suggestion of sleeping pills was unnecessary.  She heard Chariot yawn a short while later.

“I have the alarm set for seven tomorrow,” Croix muttered, herself half asleep.

Chariot hummed.  “Okay.  Good night.”

It would be a colder night than usual.  Sometime around three am, Croix knew she would wake up and find all the covers wrapped around Chariot.  It wasn’t intentional on her girlfriend’s part, but it was inevitable.  Chariot was an illusionist by trade.  Even ignoring her side job, she was so dedicated to thievery and sleight of hand that she could do it in her sleep.

 

* * *

 

“ _Sud_ , come in.”

The voice that came through the speakers was muffled and distorted.   _Nord_ was several floors underground, and the only reason they could communicate at all was thanks to _Ouest’s_ rootkit installed on the network’s modems.  That had been a difficult task, but a critical one, as it gave them almost complete control over the security system’s communications.

Sud tapped a button on the computer.  “I’m here, Nord.”

“I’m at an intersection, unlabelled.  Two hundred paces north of the third archive’s stairs.”

“Not on the blueprints,” Sud said.  “And they should be up to date.  Something’s weird about this.”

“Our information shouldn’t be that old.  Ask Ouest.”

Sud turned to Ouest, a sinking feeling in her stomach.  “You heard her.  What do you think?”

“Go straight.  Even if they added a new wing to the facility, I doubt they’ve moved our target.”

“Agreed,” Sud said.

But she never got the chance to deliver their decision.

“Code purple, code purple,” Nord whispered urgently.

_Unidentified personnel._

Too much was going wrong.  Sud had realized it a second too late.  The wrong patrol timings, the additional cameras, and the static IP reassignments were only the tip of the iceberg; it was as if they had hired an outside InfoSec firm.  But that wasn’t something the government would ever do.  They did everything in house.

Then... a leak?  Sud spared a look to Ouest, who was absorbed in the three monitors in front of him.   _Silly_.  They were all dedicated to the cause.  Still, something had happened that Sud didn’t understand – something to cause all these issues – and until she knew what it was, moving forward was too dangerous.

“Abort,” she told Nord.  “Abort.  Get out of there.”

But it was too late.

“Excuse me,” a voice said, ninety kilometers away from where Sud was safely listening.  “Are you supposed to be down here?  Let me see your credentials.”

“Of course,” Nord responded.

There were a few seconds of silence – Sud raised the volume on her computer to hear everything – and then a shout, interrupted by muffled noises.  A struggle.  A thud.  Heavy breathing.

“Croix, Croix,” Nord said, her voice filling the basement.  She was panicking.  “What do I do?  Oh god, I – I”

“Run,” Sud said.  “It’s fine.  Just run.  You’ll be out of there before they even realize-”

At that moment, the alarm systems went off.  The blaring sound was almost too loud for the microphone, and Croix instinctively hit the mute button as everything fell apart.

 

* * *

 

Croix was a coward and a false friend.

Chariot had made her escape alone.  She had held someone hostage at gunpoint, and when she’d made it out of the facility, it sparked a pursuit on the highway.  Croix had been unable to turn on the TV to see the footage from the news chopper.  She was afraid she would see something ugly and unforgettable.  She was a coward, and a false friend.

While Fafnir watched the screen with a grim expression, Croix quietly left.

Keeping her head down, her feet moved without orders.

Hearing sirens in the distance, she couldn’t help but imagine it was an ambulance, going to the scene of the crash, and that the love of her life had died because of her overconfidence, and Croix didn’t think there was a worse fate in the world than being responsible for the death of the person she loved.

She hadn’t even endangered a single finger on her body, and she’d somehow thought it was fine for Chariot to go alone into the government facility, far away and without the possibility of backup.  It was a sign of immaturity, as though the invincibility she had felt as a child had never left.

By the time Croix had made it home, she came to a simple solution.  Her father’s gun wasn’t locked behind a safe, and retrieving it was as easy as taking one step into the office and reaching behind the door.

Out in the backyard, where it wouldn’t make a mess, she sat down cross legged in the dirt in the middle of the garden, between the tomato plants and sprouting carrots, and loaded the gun.  It was light in her hands, as though telling her that this was the correct course of action.  Correct, even though it felt like she could never do anything right again in her life.

Still, a small voice in her head whispered, _shouldn’t you wait?_   _At least until you hear her fate?  So you can_ _feel a fraction of the pain_ _she_ _felt?_

Maybe.  It would be one last punishment.  Not one she wanted, but maybe the one she deserved.  The government would have no mercy on Chariot.

Croix opened the revolver again, took out three shots, and spun the cylinder.  In the distance, she heard a cat screech, fighting over its territory, and then the opening of a door and a little girl shouting for Millie.

Again, revolver against her temple.  The cold metal offered her no solace.  She tried to pull the trigger; her finger twitched, but wouldn’t apply the pressure.  This was her cowardice again.  Weak in resolve, weak in personality, weak in understanding.

 _At least be consistent_ , Croix told herself.

The gun fell to the dirt and she collapsed backward, staring up at the starless sky.

 

* * *

 

She shifted positions.  Her legs were sore and her clothing wet.  The holes in the tarp had betrayed her during last night’s rainfall.  Pools of water had formed in the junkyard, and it was as though she were on an island, far from man.  Too many days had passed without a soft surface to sleep on.

Footsteps approached.

“There,” someone said.

Croix froze. They were coming closer.  Too close.  She pulled the tarp tighter around her body.

Someone grabbed it, though.  Someone with more strength.  They tore it away, and she buried her head in her arms.

But it was all for naught.  She had been found, somehow, someway, and it felt much worse than it should have.  Warm hands wrapped around Croix’s body, and then a hot breath on her neck.  Fingers ran through her filthy hair.

And then, the shared pain.  Chariot’s body shook as her tears fell onto Croix’s shoulders.  It was a disturbing realization that Croix couldn’t shed any tears, though.  She was broken.  A few minutes passed of the one-sided embrace, before Chariot had gotten a grip on herself.

“Come back,” she said.  “Come back.  We aren’t done.”

“I’m done,” Croix said.  She should have shot herself that night.  This conversation should never have had a chance to happen.

Chariot took her hands and pulled her up with surprising force.  Her wet clothes itched, her stomach growled, and her shoulders were sore from the dirt bed.  The sunlight assaulted her, and she felt lightheaded.  It was an unwelcome brightness, and she tried to look away from it, but unfortunately made eye contact with Chariot as she did so.  Her ex looked exactly the same as a week ago, when they had spent the night together.

Impossibly, Chariot hadn’t changed.  The plan had failed, she had been arrested, Croix had given up on life, and yet here they were.  By some miracle nobody could explain, Chariot had walked free and the media had nothing but speculation in the face of a silent government.  It was a magic trick on a completely different level than the illusions she performed for school children.

Life was moving on for everyone else.

It didn’t make sense.  Croix wanted to be far away, where it wouldn’t matter.  Where she could forget.  If she was too cowardly to end it with a gun, then maybe she would have to live the rest of her life alone, a hermit, where the successes of other people wouldn’t get to her.

“I’m not done,” Chariot said.  “And neither are you.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Never.”  Chariot cupped her cheeks, and maybe it was supposed to be comforting, but for Croix it only hurt.  And then, the clincher: “You owe this to me.”

 

* * *

 

What had happened?

Croix was wrong.  Chariot _had_ changed.  So much so, in the past two weeks, that she was almost unrecognizable.

Before, Croix was the confident one.  She was the leader, and she gave the orders and others obeyed, because _she_ knew what to do.  Now, it was Chariot.  Now, everything was Chariot.  All the room’s morale, all the room’s beauty, all everything Croix once was.  It was now in the hands of the one she had loved and failed.

And, as if to confirm how far Croix had fallen, she could only feel anger and jealousy.  She should have been happy Chariot had made it out alive and unhurt – and even unidentified – but somehow she resented the whole situation.

Three days after picking Croix up from the dirt, the three of them were ensconced in a small room in the basement of Chariot’s house.  She handed out a package of papers that contained research and facts no civilian should ever have seen, and then, on the final page, a beautiful simplicity.  The grand plan.

But calling it a grand plan was an understatement.  It was so _possible_ to execute, and so _impossible_ for Chariot to have come up with on her own, that Croix wondered if maybe she had died of hypothermia back in the junkyard and this was all a nightmare.

Fafnir denied any involvement in the drafting of it.  Chariot smiled innocently.  Croix voiced her uncertainty and her unwillingness (and her regret).  But Chariot would hear none of it.

Fafnir was the most skilled with computers.  Chariot was the field expert.  Croix was the nothing.  But that damned girl refused to recognize it.

Even when it was obvious Croix’s responsibilities in the plan were much fewer and easier.  Was this pity?  Had Chariot made room for pity, despite the grandiosity of their ambitions?

But Croix had no choice.

Acceding to the plan wouldn’t be redeeming herself – that was impossible – but it would still have to be done.  She owed it to Chariot.  If there was anything left for Croix, anything at all in this world, then she would need to do this one last job, and then disappear in search of it.

 

* * *

 

Six hundred billion e-coins.  Two twenty year olds and their ex-teacher had committed the greatest crime in history, and it had gone _better_ than expected.  Perfection from Chariot, where Croix had failed in an extraordinary manner.  This truth was painful, and even before everything had calmed down for Team Polaris and exploded for the rest of the nation, Croix left.

She disappeared – and this time, there was a measure of life in her.  It wasn’t because she understood, but rather, the complete opposite.  Croix didn’t understand, and she wanted to.  Why was she so weak?

Yet there was another reason for disappearing, this time.  The envy, guilt, and shame were still present, but there was something else, too.  Something new that Croix had taken away from the experience.

Chariot was scary. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suicide is bad.  Do not kill yourself.
> 
> I’d like to thank everyone who is following along, in spite of the story's flaws.  I can only hope I don’t disappoint with the rest of the story.
> 
> (Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough time to write the beginnings of Chariot and Croix’s relationship, but rest assured it was full of chess, laser tag, and strip poker.)


	16. Eat Pie

Lotte had her gun aimed, and Croix had her hands raised.

It didn’t look like the entrance of some supervillain  who was about to flip the situation on its head.  Still, as Croix stepped further into the room, she didn’t appear bothered.  In fact, she stood tall and confident,  surveying the room with a critical eye.

“Sorry to intrude again, Echo,” she said.  “But this isn’t something I can overlook.  I’ve been watching you, knowing Big F must have made some sort of precaution in case of his death.  I’m not surprised to find this result .  But... ”  Croix nodded to Diana.  “What’s she doing here?  What are your intentions?”

Akko stood up.  “I don’t think you get to be asking questions, with a gun pointed at you.”

“Do you really think I came alone?  My men are waiting outside – I thought it would be polite.  But know this: you  hurt me, and you all die.  Big F’s niece or not.  None of you are suicidal, so far as I know, so I think that about covers it.  Now, I repeat, what are your intentions?”

“Well, I think it’s obvious what I’m doing,” Akko said.

“Then it’s obvious what I will do, no?  Give me the private key and only one person has to die here, tonight.”

Akko ’s breath caught.   “One person?”

“ C an’t let her live,” Croix said, looking to Diana.  “She’s not stupid – she knows who I am.  All it takes from her is one phone call and then every time I connect to the Network, I’ll have -”

“No.”  Akko stormed over, momentarily forgetting about the safe.  “No, no, _no!_  I refuse to let you hurt her.  She’s – she’s my friend!”

The last bit was a tiny white lie.  Akko looked over to Diana.  She had taken refuge behind Lotte – a good idea, so long as the faeries kept quiet.  Her face was pale, and her eyes glued to Croix, as though they were the only two in the room.

Croix shook her head.  “Don’t be thinking yourself a hero that can save everyone, Echo.  We’re criminals.  We make hard choices, and we accept our losses.  Though in your case, there’s no choice in the matter.”

“ You don’t need to do anything to her,” Akko said.  “S he won’t turn you in .   She doesn’t even want the money returned to the government ! ”

“You’re too gullible, if you believe that.  Now, open the safe.  It’s what Big F wanted.”

Lotte’s gun wavered and swung towards the door at the sound of footsteps .

“Fafnir wanted  n o such thing.”

A woman entered the room, and it took Akko a moment to recall her name.  Ursula, the government employee who had walked Akko out of prison.

Ursula stopped next to Croix, furious and out of breath.  “This isn’t what Fafnir wanted.”

Lotte appeared unsure of whether to hold a gun on Croix or the new arrival, and after a moment of deliberation, her features relaxed and she put away the shotgun in favour of two handguns.  The solution was, as expected, both.

Ursula held up a hand, trying to regain her breath.

“Chariot.”

The word was a whisper of fear.  It came from Croix.  She was now backing away.  

This was not the Croix that had been present a moment ago; the confidence and authority had melted off her, and it was like she’d reverted to a child.  Tripping over a box, Croix made no attempt to stand ag ain , but instead chose to scramble backwards on the ground.  For good reason.  Ursula had immediately focused on her.

“I – I’m sorry,” Croix said.  “Just leave me alone.”

“Chariot?” Akko said.  “You’re wrong, that’s-”

_ Ursula?  Really? _  She rounded on Chariot.  The legend.  Greatest thief in the world.  Magician.  Leader of Team Polaris.  Shiny.  Friend of Big F and Croix.  Person who,  a few days ago, Akko had labelled Incompetent Weirdo.  And, not for the first time that week, Akko felt pretty stupid.  The thought of thanking Shiny Chariot flew out the window, and it emptied her house that much more.  All that was left was to burn it to the ground.

“ -y ou lied to me,” Akko finished.  Her voice might not have been deadly, but that was what Lotte was for.

“Akko , p lease, wait a second and I will explain. ”  Chariot turned to look down at Croix.  “ Croix – you – I – please tell me you aren’t doing what I think you’re doing.”

Croix, now backed against  the wall, shook her head wildly.  “It’s – it’s not.  Not what it looks like.  I was just-”

But Akko had had enough.  She wasn’t about to let anyone dismiss her.  Not now.  “Chariot,” she shouted.  “You were the one who gave Diana the tip, weren’t you?  Answer me truthfully, or Lotte will make sure you never walk again.  Did you kill Big F?”

Chariot seemed split between defending herself from Akko, and unleashing her fury on Croix.  Surprisingly, however, it was Croix who answered.

“She didn’t,” Croix said, looking at the floor.  “I lied – it was all lies.   Big F never wanted to spend the money.  I approached him and tried to convince him, but he refused.  But I swear – I swear I never did anything to him.  I don’t know how they got him.”

_ It was all lies. _

This was where it began to fall apart for Akko.  Her plans had been based on Big F’s decisions.  If he hadn’t wanted to spend the money, then Akko couldn’t.  She couldn’t dishonour him like that.  Even with  Rastavan at stake, and the threat of the Social Percentage Plan, her strategy  had to change; the six hundred billion could not be spent.

Chariot bent down – the need to lower herself made it so much worse – and slapped Croix.  Croix’s reaction was a lifeless whimper, and not much else.

And , as though  the violent act had never occurred, Chariot stood up and faced Akko.  “It is true, however, that I gave the anonymous tip to Ms Cavendish.”

Diana stepped away from Lotte .   “Why?”  she  said.

“I was busy,” Chariot admitted.  “A shameful excuse, but true.  The politics and power games within the government often take my full attention .  They have something in the works called the Social Percentage Plan-”

“We know,” Sucy said, waving her hand dismissively.

Chariot took it in stride.  “Well, with it being pushed forward, I ha d my hands full.  If it turned out the government was successful in acquiring the key, then there would be  no infiltration needed, since I’m already on the inside.  It would be an easy grab.  If  the tip failed to produce anything worthwhile, it would have cost me nothing.”

“It cost Big F his life!” Akko  shouted .

“No,” Chariot said.  “I refuse to believe such a thing.  I will miss him greatly, but I won’t blame myself for what happened.  He had other things going on, and, as far as I know, his arrest had nothing what soever to do with my tip. ”

Silently, Croix climbed to her feet and began to make her way towards the exit.  She seemed physically ill, leaning against the wall as she moved.

Chariot took notice, and with quick strides, cut her off.

“Let me go,” Croix whispered.

“I’ve made that mistake once already.”  Chariot grabbed her hand and dragged her away from the door – Croix doing a terrible job of putting up resistance.  “I’m not letting you out of sight now.”

And then there was a click, and Akko had to blink a few times because she didn’t quite believe what she was seeing: Chariot had produced a set of handcuffs with fuzzy black padding around the cuffs – no, Akko really wasn’t seeing this right – and she had fastened one cuff to Croix’s hand, and the other to her own.

“Are those-” Croix began, her voice a hundred times smaller.

“Do you even need to ask?”

An awkward silence developed where, instead of Croix looking at the ground, she stared at the handcuffs.  It was a minor improvement, but the whole thing still felt  _ wrong _ .  Akko wasn’t going to say that aloud, however.  Instead, she needed to break the tension.  Unfortunately, her only value now was opening the safe, which would inevitably create more tension.   _ She _ was the source of the tension, because she knew the combination.

“Well,” Akko said, because she at least needed to try.  “Now that  everyone is here to stay : can I offer anyone some coffee?”

“A coffee shop,” Chariot said,  amused .  “Last I heard, Fafnir had the safe in his laundromat.”

“The place shut down,” Akko said, remembering when she’d told Diana the exact same thing.

“Apparently so,” Chariot nodded.  “But enough of that. There are more important matters to discuss.   The supercomputer has begun the process of evaluating every citizen.  The values will go public two months from now, starting as a trial  in Exeter. ”

“Then… then the trial will fail miserably and they’ll scrap the idea and we won’t have to do anything?” Akko said.

Chariot smiled gently, despite Lotte still pointing a gun at her.  “ Unfortunately, it won ’t be so easy.  I t ’ll be accepted much easier than you might think, because the convenience will outway the apparent threat to freedom and privacy.  It ’ll be used for everything from job interviews to easy, instant mortgage approvals.  I had tried to stop this, but my sway within the government wasn’t enough , and this means we need the six hundred billion .  It is our only negotiation tool, now.”

Negotiation tool?  That sounded like playing with fire (actually, not really, because playing with fire was  _ fun _ ).  But didn’t that also mean Chariot was fine with using the money, if worst came to worst?  Just like C roix, but unlike Big F.

Still, Akko nodded. Returning to the safe, she knew what she had to do.  With Croix out of action, Diana was no longer in danger.  Despite there being only two more sets of eyes on her, things felt very different as she input the passcode.

Her eyesight was blurring – definitely not a good thing; she needed that sense the most right now – and her hearing seemed to be hypersensitive, as though every breath in the room was magnified a dozen times o ver .

Upon pressing the final button, the safe beeped and a green light flashed.  The room was dead silent.  She pulled the handle.  It creaked.  Behind her, Chariot kept her distance and Croix didn’t even look up at the sound of the safe opening.  Even Sucy didn’t move.  Bu t maybe she was just trying to pretend she didn’t care – she had a reputation for apathy in critical moments to maintain.

The inside of the safe was divided into three sections.  The bottom and middle parts were drawers.  She pulled these out, only to find they were vertical filing folders.  Bills, medical, real estate, tax returns – lots of this stuff Akko already had digital copies of.  There was unfamiliar stuff, too – file folders with codeword headlines, like Arcturus and Wagandea –  and Akko  decided to avoid  those for now .  Instead, her focus was drawn to the top section of the safe.

It was a shelf.  On it, a picture.  Akko picked it up.

Chariot and Croix were at the centre of the photo, their school the backdrop.  It was a cloudless day, and Chariot was in the middle of laughing about something .  H er expression was contagious, and Akko smiled.  Young Croix didn’t look nearly as entertained – probably suffering as the butt of the joke – but there was no escape for her.  Chariot’s arm was slung around her neck, as if to make sure she didn’t run off.  In the background, Big F.  He looked younger, but he still had grey hair and a tired – though amused – expression.  

Croix and Chariot had been cute, happy girls, but... Akko looked back to their future selves, standing in the room.  Things had changed a lot, since then, hadn’t they?  Neither of them were smiling now.

The only thing left on the shelf was a small piece of paper, the size of a bookmark.  Akko put the picture back and retrieved the paper.   It was handwritten in  ink .  The letters were all lowercase – private keys weren’t case-sensitive – and the numbers were underlined.  It was Big F ’s handwriting – she recognized it – and it had been written  with great car e .

_ ne _ _ 8 _ _ e _ _ 0 _ _ lar... _

Sixty-four hexadecimal characters.  At sixteen possibilities for each character, that meant a lot – a number seventy-eight digits long – of possible private keys.

Big F had taught her a little about computer security, and though she couldn’t remember much of it, one fact came to mind: in information theory, an e-coin private key had two hundred and sixty-four bits of entropy.  What did that mean, she had asked?

Not guessable before the sun dies out, he had said.

In her hands was the unique sixty-four character key that held six hundred billion e-coins.  So many letters and numbers, it made her eyes swim.

She stood up, stumbled, and leaned against the safe for a moment.  Finally, once she felt steady, she took a step away.

“Here it is,” she said, raising it a little.  “The key.”

Chariot and Croix exchanged glances, one as unreadable as the other.  Akko took another step away from the safe.  The paper was very light, considering it held the weight of a nation.  Her hand was visibly shaking as she stared at it.  Letter, number, number, letter, letter, letter.  So many.

And then, like  it was a piece of pie, she ate it.

“If I can’t have it, no one can,” she said as she chewed the paper.

Paper didn’t taste good.  She already knew this from childhood ventures.  One such  attempt included a bet that she couldn’t eat a book, and she had won the bet but the darned kid hadn’t paid up ( a betrayal that had hurt worse than Sucy’s) .

But, in any case, she munched it a few times – making audible  _ om-nom-noms _ in case anyone had doubts about what she had done – and then swallowed it.  Throughout the entire ordeal, she tried not to think too hard.  That would have been bad.  Very, very bad.  Insanity was only a small step away.

Croix – amazingly –  didn’t react .  It was like she had given up on life, since Chariot had shown up.

“That – did you-” Chariot started, before her voice failed her.

“Screw it all,” Akko said.  “I’m tired of this – all I want is-” and  in her peripheral vision she focused on  Diana, because, well, she did want Diana “-to burn something down, take a nap, and quit worrying about all this world-saving world-destroying bullpoop.”

“Akko, please  learn to say  _ bullshit _ in situations like this ,” Sucy said.  “Eating six hundred billion should at least earn you that right, because  _ that _ is the real shitty thing here.”

Sucy approached her, and Akko thought it might have been to reach down her throat and take the private key back, but instead  Sucy reached into lab coat, withdrew an item, and placed it in Akko’s hand.

It was a single red button.  Large, and with one word on it in white text  ( no, not ‘easy’).  The word was Akko’s favourite word in the whole entire world –  _ fire _ .

There was no context for this promised fire, but Akko knew it wasn’t the ‘ launch nuke ’ definition of fire, but rather the ‘ flames of Heck’  definition of fire.  How did she know this?  Because Sucy had developed it, and Sucy  was her  friend.  This is what good friends did.  They gave their friends big red buttons that started fires.

Akko pressed the button.

 


	17. Burn Down

The effect was immediate.

The gasoline in the other room ignited with a _whoosh_.  But it was more like _whoooooooooosh_ , and then _crackle_ and _hiss_ and _whatthefuck_ – except that last one wasn’t the fire, but someone in the room.  If it had been the fire, Akko would’ve had some very serious questions for Sucy.

“Uh,” she said as the room rose several degrees.  “Sucy, shouldn’t you have given this to me _after_ we left the building?”

Sucy shrugged.  “You said you wanted to burn something.”

Never mind that that something was her house – and really, she didn’t mind.  In fact, she loved it.  Burning her own stuff was so much more intimate, and it filled her with a fuzzy feeling.  But Sucy needed to work on her timing.

“We’ll continue this outside,” Chariot said.

Whether Croix wanted to or not, she was dragged behind a quick moving Chariot into the smoky room beyond.

“Let’s go,” Lotte said.  “Before the fire cuts off the exit.”

Lotte and Sucy left the room, keeping their heads low.  Diana followed a few steps behind them, a little reluctant.  If Croix’s goons were still out there, hopefully they hadn’t been ordered to shoot any blondes on sight.

Akko watched them leave.  They would make it out alright, suffering maybe from watery eyes, ash in their hair, and a want for an ice cold cup of water.

The room was now empty aside from herself.  She looked around.  Even now, most of her possessions were packed in boxes.  Opening the nearest one, she found a pile of shirts.  They would burn.  Another box had the few books she owned.

She was reminded of a certain memory.  It was one she didn’t think of often – because, as Sucy had put it, the past was in the past – but also one she would never forget.  If she was being completely honest with herself, the memory was a complete non-event.  Waking up early on a weekend – no school, hurray – she had picked a book off her bookshelf about magic and witches, and, grabbing her favourite blankie, she curled up on the armchair in front of the wood stove and began to read.

And that was it.

The words and the crackling of the fire to keep her company.

Pure comfort.

All the elements of rightness in the world, coalesced into a single point, just for her to experience.  Maybe, now, a book in hand would be nice.  Not a book about pi – she’d had enough of that already – but perhaps a fantasy book, with the familiar tropes of a quest to save the world, a prince and a princess (or better yet, a princess and a princess) (but wait, would that mean it was incest?) (no, not if they were from two opposing, war-torn nations), and a dragon (or two) (or three).  Her mind had impossibly high standards, yet she still dug through the box, looking for a book.

Her hands stopped when they came across Fahrenheit 451.  Supposedly, it was a common book in the high school curriculum.  But Big F hadn’t made her attend.

Akko abandoned the box, crossed the room, kicked the safe shut, and then took a seat on her futon.  It squeaked under her weight, and she whispered “sorry” before laying down.  The sound and heat from the fire in the room over was relaxing.  Smoke began pouring into the back room, but it rose to the high ceiling and didn’t bother her.

She took out her phone and stared at the home screen for a minute.  Then, she tapped open her messages and scrolled past Sucy, Lotte, Jasminka, Amanda, and Constanze.  There were a few other names, too – people she’d had to make contact with on Big F’s behalf – but her list was relatively short.  Most people in Rastavan preferred to communicate in person.

Her last text from Big F was twenty-eight days ago.

 _Check my mail for water bill_.

He had lived in the apartment next door, and it had been a simple request that Akko hadn’t thought twice about.

 _K_.

That was the last thing she’d ever communicated to him.  A single letter, like she hadn’t thought him worth the time of day.  Not even an ‘ _okay’_.  Just a ‘ _k_ ’.  And this wasn’t okay.

It was far from atoning for her laziness, but she vowed from then on never to use text speak.  She would write out every letter, capitalize every proper name, and put a period at the end of every sentence.  In his memory.

To begin with, she would write him a text.  He would never read it, but it sounded like a good idea.  Something, beyond burning the coffee shop, to help herself.  It took her a minute – both because she was questioning comma placements and because she didn’t know what to say (there was too much to say).  Once done, the phone fell from her hands and she laid back and closed her eyes.

In that state between wake and sleep, where thoughts repeated themselves and rebounded in her skull aimlessly, her subconscious drew up a blonde-haired princess in her castle, under attack by a blaze of dragons, and-

_“You’re incorrigible.”_

Someone grabbed her hand and pulled her off the futon and away from the princess and dragons.  They left the back room and passed through the coffee shop – it was like a sauna, and Akko tried to resist here, despite the smoke she was inhaling – but her rescuer’s momentum prevented it, and then they burst outdoors into the late afternoon sun.

Akko doubled over coughing.  She was not smoke-resistant, nor fire-resistant – it seemed tolerances couldn’t be built up towards some things.

That complacency from a moment ago gone, she straightened out and discovered a tragedy greater than the loss of the princesses and dragons, and even greater than six hundred billion e-coins: Akko had committed the gravest of sins.

Diana had been her rescuer, and now the ends of her hair were singed and frizzled.

Akko had burned someone.  And out of all the people it could have been, it was the blonde princess she’d been dreaming about.

“No!” Akko choked, reaching out to grab it.  “Your hair, your hair.”

“Not funny, Akko.”  Diana slapped her hands away.  “Please focus on the matters at hand before you mock your saviour.”

Mock?  Akko might have tried to argue otherwise, but she realized that Diana was partially right.  Croix’s goons weren’t anywhere to be seen – perhaps another lie on her part – but Chariot was fuming.

“Why?” Chariot demanded as soon as Akko met her eyes.

“I already told you – if I can’t have it, no one can.”

“You’re insane.”  Chariot pressed a hand to her forehead.  “Fafnir really did choose you, didn’t he?  The perfect successor.”

It felt like a compliment, so Akko smiled.

“There’s not another copy, is there?” Chariot said.

Akko shrugged.

“Of course not.  That’s it,” Chariot said to herself.  “It’s what we decided on.  One single handwritten copy of the private key, held by Fafnir.  No digital copies or reproductions.”  She glared at Akko again.  “Without the money, you realize Rastavan will be demolished and the Percentage Plan implemented?”

“No,” Akko said.  “I’m going to stop it all.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.  Magic.”

Chariot looked angered by the thought (and Croix, still handcuffed to her, despondent).  “With all the trust Fafnir put into you, he didn’t tell you much, did he?  For all the time you spent around him, you don’t know what kind of man he was.  Let me explain, and we’ll see if you start to take this a little more seriously.  After the theft, we all parted ways.  I wanted to change the system from the inside – I wanted to change the way the government works, so I found a job there and worked my way up.  Ultimately, in these past four years I have made no difference.  Fafnir was the most practical of us all.  He made a tangible difference, by taking control of Rastavan.  He created a place for thousands of people who didn’t fit in elsewhere, and he shielded them from the government.  His obsession with money may have made him appear greedy, but he was the opposite.  Even to this day, Fafnir is one of the most selfless people I know.”

Akko opened her mouth but only ended up blinking several times.  She would not cry in front of Chariot a second time.

“I – I’m sorry,” she finally said.

Chariot nodded, relaxing slightly.

Beside them, Croix mumbled, “I’ve had enough of this.  Let me go.  I don’t care anymore.  I’m done – I give up.  I just want to go home.”

“You can’t-” Chariot began.

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do,” Croix whispered.

It wasn’t very convincing, and Chariot only redoubled the strength in her voice.  “I will if I need to.  If it’s the only way to get the old you back.”

“The... old me?”

Chariot nodded.  “I’m not letting you disappear until we talk.”

She dug into her pocket and pulled out a key.  And this was supposed to be the sappy conclusion, where she unlocked the cuffs and Croix stayed by her side (because Akko was really starting to think there was something between the two of them – those handcuffs were darned suspicious).  Chariot put the key in the lock – a good start, by any means – and Croix looked up at the action.  Akko would have liked to pretend their eyes met then, and a thousand unspoken words crossed between them, but in reality Chariot sneezed, the key flew out of the lock, hit the ground, and then it bounced into the sewage drain.

Gone.

Disappeared.

 _Poof_.

There was a moment of silence where the coffee shop continued to burn (was that coffee beans Akko smelled?).

“Chariot,” Croix finally said.  “Please tell me you didn’t just do that.”

“Oh dear.”  Chariot tried taking a step towards the drain, but Croix didn’t let her.  “This could be problematic.”

“It was a magic trick, wasn’t it?  Tell me it was a magic trick.”

“I’m really sorry.  I wish it was.”  Chariot looked at her hands.  “But it’s been four years since I’ve practised.”

“Four years?  Is that how long you’ve been working for the government?”

“Yes,” Chariot said, staring intensely at the drain, as though she could will the key to return.

Croix’s voice grew louder – almost back to pre-Chariot strength.  “Hold on.  That’s not possible.  How did you get a job with the government?  You had no post-secondary education.”

“I had a friend on the inside.”

“A friend on the inside,” Croix repeated.  Her eyes opened wider.  “That – is that how you did it?  How you walked from the government, when you were caught?”

Chariot nodded.  If they hadn’t been handcuffed, she might have taken a step away, because Croix’s face was twisted.

“I – I can’t believe this,” Croix said.  She chuckled.  “And that was how you got level three access for the theft, isn’t it?”

“Croix-” Chariot started.

“You aren’t some kind of superhuman,” Croix whispered.  “You aren’t... why was I so afraid of you?”

Chariot physically recoiled, but again the cuffs kept them together.  A distraught expression crossed her face, and she looked away.  “Afraid?   _Please_ , please don’t tell me that’s why you disappeared.”

At first, Akko had been slightly entertained by the notion of two ex-friends being locked together to rekindle their friendship, but now she just pitied Chariot.  This had turned ugly, fast, and she had no words to diffuse it.  Diana and Lotte, the only two other empathetic people present, said nothing.  Lotte wandered over to the drain, though, and tried looking past the grate into the darkness beyond.

Croix suddenly tugged on the handcuffs, as if expecting them to break apart, and Chariot stumbled.

“Well,” Croix said.  “No point hanging around here.”

Without another word, she began to walk away.  Chariot struggled to keep pace, stuttering and perhaps trying to find the right words – if there were any (there weren’t) – to say.

“Interesting,” Sucy said once they climbed into a vehicle down the block.  “Now that that Chariot woman has been taken down a notch, every waking moment for them will be the most awkward silence ever.  That’s a special kind of torture – one worse than I could ever have come up with.”

Akko thought about it for a moment.  She might have agreed, but there was still the matter of the type of handcuffs that were used, which raised some important questions.

But that was no longer her problem.  She turned to look at her place, now ablaze.  A smile reached her lips.  Looking into the flames, it was easy to forget about everyone around her, and fall into memories of the past.

She remembered how it had felt, when her mother, Edna, had announced they were leaving.  They still had a life to live, she had said, so they were moving to Japan (Akko’s father’s home country).  And that much was true; her mother had been in high school when she’d given birth to Akko, and hadn’t got the chance to do much with her life aside from dealing with a loud, constantly whining baby.

Akko remembered her hesitation, upon meeting Big F (Uncle Fafnir, at the time).  He had been weird in many ways, but maybe that was a prerequisite, to accept a Zapped teenager.  As much as Akko tried to resist, he had insisted on homeschooling her.  Homeschooling it was called, but the curriculum was a mixture of that day’s news and whatever maths he had felt like going over.

Still, he had done a good job, and she hadn’t minded the math lessons.

(And now, she was feeling the first tinges of regret.  Big F had bought her a psychology textbook, for some reason, and it would inevitably perish in the fire.)

A hand entered her view, holding a handkerchief.

“I’m sorry, Akko,” Lotte said, approaching the fire to stand on her right.  “He was a good man.  Without him, I’d have went down a very different path.”

Akko nodded and wiped her eyes.  It had apparently been obvious what she was thinking about.  But that was fine.  It was fine to cry.  Even if her tears weren’t made of fire, it was fine to cry.

Sucy stepped forward to stand on her left.  “Remember what Big F said, the first time he visited my lab.”

Again, Akko nodded, and again, there was silence.

 

* * *

 

In the distance, sirens.

How long had they been standing there?  She’d been lost in the flames, but now it was time to move on.  Past time to move on, actually.  The flames were getting uncomfortably close to the nearby buildings (including Fafnir’s apartment).

“Who called it in?” Akko said.

“The only rational person here.”

It said a lot that Akko was surprised to find Diana still present.

“Oh.  You’re still here?” she said before she could check herself.

“Is that a problem?” Diana said.

“Uh.  No?”

And then Akko remembered.  Burnt hair.  Hair was a part of the body.  Burnt body.  Instinctively, she stepped forward and reached out, but again, Diana stopped her.  It wasn’t with a slap, this time, but by intercepting Akko’s hand and forcefully lowering it.

“Your hair,” Akko said.

“If this is all I walk away with, then I should consider myself fortunate.  You protected me from Croix, and...”  Diana frowned.  “And I think I’ve come to accept your issues.  If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have remained for the opening of the safe.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” Sucy snickered.

It didn’t make up for Akko breaking her personal rule, but she felt oddly light on her feet.  Diana’s acceptance, and the fire, had lifted a great weight off her (as well as eating the private key).  There was no immediate trouble, knowing the government.  They would need to talk, discuss, speak, chat, confer, consult, converse, and do it all thrice over again before they were ready to make a move.  That meant, hopefully, the next few days would be calm.

Only problem was, Akko didn’t have a place to stay.  The sun was setting, and they had spent long enough in front of the fire.

“Lotte,” she said.  “Can I crash at your place?”

Lotte hesitated.  “But the faeries...”

And then Akko looked to her left.  Sucy began to whistle, her attention suddenly focused on something in the opposite direction, far down the street.  Akko had the greatest friends.

Diana cleared her throat.  “I suppose I could let you stay at my place.”

The offer stunned Akko, for multiple reasons.  “You mean it didn’t burn down?”

“No,” Diana said.  “The master bedroom requires repairs, but beyond that my house is still standing.”

Akko’s next question was simple.  “Why?”

“I can’t say you made the right choice – nobody knows what will come of this – but it wasn’t a selfish decision.  And I can respect that.”

“Uh,” Sucy interrupted.  “Even after she said, _twice_ , and I quote, ‘if I can’t have it, no one can’?”

Diana crossed her arms.  “I don’t believe that was her true justification.  Besides, I wouldn’t want to feel responsible for any motels burning down tonight.”

A car drove up and parked beside them on the road.  Its doors opened and Diana stepped towards it.

“Get in, Akko,” Diana said.  “Or don’t.  I couldn’t care less.” 


	18. Shut Up

Who was Chariot?

The stage illusionist with magic fingers?  Or the one who forgot to do her homework and had to copy off Croix last minute, only to answer all the questions off by one and getting them both in trouble?  The one who had been arrested and walked away unperturbed, preparing for attempt number two?  Or the one who lost the handcuff keys because she sneezed?  Croix’s first lover?  Or the one who would destroy her?

Was there any difference?

Whatever fear Croix had felt four years ago was gone.  She was no longer afraid.  To some degree, time had healed her.  Her jealousy was nowhere to be found and her guilt, too, had lessened in recent years.  Maybe age had instilled a sort of wisdom in her.  Given her the distance to understand.  Or maybe watching Chariot fumble the key was the reminder Croix needed.

Chariot was all of the above.

She was unpredictable, unfathomable, and unignorable.

They climbed out of the car – a struggle, when they both had to leave through the same door – and Croix followed half a pace behind as they approached a small house on the outskirts of the city.  It wasn’t the nicest place – there was a piece of panelling missing on the side of the house, and some of the roof shingles were growing moss – but there was a sort of homeliness to it that was welcoming.  (The garden gnome out front wasn’t welcoming, though.  Croix had never liked them; they creeped her out.)

Chariot retrieved a key from her pocket and opened the door – no sneezes this time – but Croix paused at the entrance.

“Come in,” Chariot said.

“Is this your place?”

“Yes.  Now hurry up – I don’t want to be standing here all night.”

Inside, the wallpaper was peeling at the corners, junk mail was piled a foot tall by the phone, and the carpet was filthy.  Croix didn’t know what she had expected.  Even four years ago, Chariot’s room had been a mess.  Some things never changed.

They entered the living room, and Chariot dragged her over to a cage in the corner of the room.  Inside the cage was a bird.  The metal creaked as she opened the cage door.

“Alcor, meet Croix,” Chariot said.  “Croix, Alcor.

“A bird?” Croix said.

“Too much enthusiasm will wear you out,” Chariot chided.

The bird was white, but certainly not a dove.  Croix didn’t know anything beyond that.  She was not a bird person (who was?).  It didn’t look friendly, though, and she decided she would keep her distance from it.  As if the bird knew what she was thinking, it flew out of its cage directly at her, before changing direction at the last second and veering out of the room.

Croix looked around.  “I thought you would be a little cleaner than this.”

“I wasn’t expecting a guest,” Chariot said.  “I was cat sitting for a friend, and haven’t had the time to vacuum.  Busy past few weeks.”

As they sat on the couch, a strange calmness overtook her.  Four years was both an eternity and not long enough.  The impending conversation would be ugly, but despite that, Croix felt at ease.  They were at least capable of exchanging some civil words, and that would be important to remember.  She almost wanted to flick on the TV, lean back, and watch.  And, if it had been four years ago, Chariot would have curled up against her as the minutes passed in silence (and then Chariot’s hands would have gotten frisky).

“One cat, or ten?” Croix said.

“Please don’t think idle chat is going to get you out of this.”

Croix eyed the handcuffs and rose her hand slightly.  “Why would you keep these?”

“I kept lots of stuff from then.”  It seemed to occur to Chariot that the question qualified as idle chat.  She forced their hands back down and cleared her throat.  “What the hell were you thinking?”

Croix knew what to say, and she knew what Chariot would say in response, but still, she paused.  It seemed like the right thing to do at the moment.  Alcor returned to the room in the silence, and landed back in his cage.  He began pruning his feathers again, and Croix readied herself.

“Fafnir was sitting on the equivalent of a nuclear bomb,” she said.

“And you wanted to set it off?”

“Change demands sacrifice.”

“Then is it even worth it, then?” Chariot said.  “Whether we like it or not, we’ve become reliant on the system.  Just how many people's lives would be ruined, and how much would you manage to change?  We knew all this _years_ ago.  That’s why we promised never to use it.”

“That was a stupid promise we made four years ago-”

“Oh, so I guess all promises we made as teenagers were stupid?” Chariot retorted.

Croix grit her teeth.  They had made some silly ones, and she couldn’t even begin to guess which promise Chariot was thinking of.  “Yeah, I guess so.  Didn’t take long for you to go work for the government, after I left.”

“I needed to move on!  You disappeared and I cried myself to sleep for nights because of your selfishness.”

“Selfishness?” Croix said.  “You were the one who had dragged me back and forced me to continue.”

“For your own good!  You couldn’t just quit because of one failure.  I tried to fix things – to bring them back to normal.  If we had stopped there, you never would have forgiven yourself.”

At some point, they had both risen to their feet, and Alcor was watching them like a dog ready to intervene on his master’s behalf.

“I never asked you to fix things,” Croix said.

“You think I could have left you alone, after that?  You think I was that strong?”

“You were strong enough to take on the government alone.”

“It wasn’t alone.  I had you and Fafnir.”

“Neither of us helped.  The plan was yours, and yours alone.  Just like the plans I drew up were mine.  Only they failed.”

“In that sense, my plan failed, too.  We turned a few companies away from the currency, and delayed its majority adoption by a month, at best.”

A moment passed in silence.  What Chariot was thinking of, she would never be able to guess, but she was wondering how it could have gone.  If she had been a little stronger, they could have ridden the wave of momentum and struck again and again – and other people would have made efforts, too, until the government couldn’t handle all the attacks.  They could have been the catalyst for a rebellion that would unseat the prime minister, wake the monarchy from its complacency, and reform the government.

But instead, Croix had let herself be beaten.

She glared at the handcuffs (why _those_ handcuffs?).  The need to move her feet was overwhelming.  Staying in one spot, especially during conversations, was difficult for her.  Being attached to Chariot made it all the more difficult.  Old memories were resurfacing, and try as she might, she couldn’t not look back on them fondly.

“Your plans didn’t get you nearly killed,” Croix said.

Chariot shook her head.  “I don’t care about that.  I _never_ cared, and I told you as much.  I was happy to be able to help you, and everything I did was on me, not you.”

Croix had heard variants of that years ago, but she hadn’t been able to accept it.  Even now, it was hard.  “I’m sorry,” she said, pulling on the handcuffs to turn Chariot around.  “Even though you say you don’t care, it’s still something I can’t get over.  I hurt you.”

“But that’s a lie.  You never hurt me.”  Chariot paused.  “Well, aside from that one time, but vampire-victim roleplay needs a little biting and blood.   _God_ , it was so hot.”

Chariot wasn’t wrong.  That had been an unforgettable night.  The sounds Chariot had made had been irresistible, and Croix had gotten carried away.  But hearing Chariot speak of it now seemed wrong, even if it was awakening Croix’s imagination.  It was like Chariot was trying to control the conversation.

“You bring that up now?” Croix said.  “You really can’t take me seriously, can you?  Since my failure – since I showed my weakness to you – you don’t even think of me as human.”

“Maybe you should just suck it up,” Chariot said, her voice hard.  “Or do you need to disappear for another four years before you finally get over it?”

“If that’s how long it takes you to realize that using the money is the right choice, and Echo screwed us all over, then maybe I should.”

Somehow, Croix had gotten her way.  They were pacing back and forth down the hallway, from the kitchen to the living room.  Despite realizing this, she didn’t stop.  It put her in control, somewhat.

“Enough talking about the past,” Croix said.  “It won’t change anything.”

“Then, what, you want to talk about the present?” Chariot said.  “About how you betrayed Fafnir?  About how you no longer value human life?”

“Betrayed him?  He was doing _nothing_.  I don’t know if it was because he lost his passion, or if he was getting too old, but knowing the money was sitting there unused – it wasn’t right.  Not when so the people are losing the fight.”

“Yes,” Chariot snapped.  “Let’s just give everyone a nuclear bomb and see how it works out.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite.”  Croix stopped and spun on Chariot, trapping her against a wall.  “You betrayed him, too!  You submitted an anonymous tip meant to get the money.  At least I tried to be upfront about it.”

“If my plan had worked, I had no intention of using it until all other options were expended,” Chariot whispered.

“And you couldn’t trust me to know when to use it?  What makes you think _I_ would trust _you_ to-”

Chariot rolled her eyes.  “Shut up and kiss me.”

Croix obeyed.  There was probably an appropriate, rational response to such an order, but Croix gave herself over to instincts, and instincts obeyed.  Four long years had passed, and there was no patience involved.  It was no tentative kiss, and there was no way it could have made up for four years of being apart, but that didn’t mean Chariot didn’t try.  Croix, too.  She pushed Chariot against the wall, their kiss momentarily breaking upon impact.

The cuffs made it a challenge, but it also made it more intimate.  Knowing there wasn’t a choice in the matter – that they were locked together whether they liked it or not – was exciting.  But there was still one problem.  Even as Croix found access to Chariot’s mouth with her tongue, she saw it out of the corner of her eye.

Croix pulled back.  “Alcor is watching.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Your room, _now_.”

 

* * *

 

They were laying side by side on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.  Chariot had spared no expense and Croix was breathing hard, trying to decide if she wanted this moment to recuperate, or if she wanted to keep indulging in the woman beside her.

Somehow, though, her thoughts ended up chasing down a conversation that needed to happen.

“Do you know anything about his death?” Croix said.

“No,” Chariot said.  A full minute passed.  “I can’t imagine who would want him dead, unless it really was the government, but they had good reason to keep him alive.  A random prison stabbing?  If he rubbed any of the inmates the wrong way...”

“I don’t buy that,” Croix said.

“No.  Me neither.”

“Couldn’t be the government.  Nobody who knew he had the private key would have killed him.”  A thought occurred to her.  “Unless, what do you know about Echo?”

“Fafnir’s niece, eighteen, she’s lived with him for three years.  Helps with his business.”

“He tells her the combination, she makes a backup of the private key, and then that whole scene is played out exactly according to her plan, so we leave her alone.”

“You’ve really turned into a hardass these past few years.  Even if that was true, what would you do?  Torture her for it?”

“I don’t trust her.  She’s too... eccentric.  So, yes, if you would let me.”

“Hey,” Chariot said.  “What are we doing?  Are we picking up where we left off?”

“If you want.”

“And _you’re_ fine with that?  You were the one who left.”

“I’m fine.  Very fine.”

Chariot exhaled.  “Fuck.  That’s good to hear.  Can you imagine if I misread the signals?”

“Signals?” Croix groaned.  “Was I that obvious?”

“It’s all in the eyes,” Chariot said.  She reached out with her free hand and grabbed her tablet from the bedside table.

“What are you doing?” Croix asked.

“I’m finding the nearest blacksmith’s.”  She raised the cuffs.  “We’ll get it sawed off.”

“No.”

“No?”

Croix knocked the tablet out of her hand and onto the bed.  “That’s the worst thing you could do.  It’s twenty years bad luck.”  (It wasn’t.)

“Bad luck?” Chariot smiled.  “I didn’t know you were superstitious.”

“I am.”  (She wasn’t.)  “We’ll solve this ourselves.  Find someone to pick the lock, or something.  But tomorrow.  It’s getting late.”

“You still get tired after sex?  You’re just like a guy.”

The words rubbed Croix the wrong way.  They were lying in a large bed.  She looked around the room.  There was only one dresser, but it wasn’t enough to allay her sudden concern.  It was too late for subtlety, in bed with Chariot.

“These last four years,” Croix said.  “How many people were you with?”

Chariot looked down at her hand.   _Her ring finger._ “I’m sorry.”

The intonation made Croix immediately freeze.  Single women as beautiful as Chariot didn’t _stay_ single.  Not for four years.

“I suppose I misled you.”  Chariot looked away and took a deep breath.  “My ring is actually being resized right now.  But don’t worry, we can still spend the night together.  He’s out of town on a business trip.  He will be, for another eight days.  We at least have that much time together.”

Time.  Eight days.  Of course.  Croix had run away.  Of course this would happen.  It was the obvious result.  Of course.  To expect otherwise was delusional, naive, downright _stupid_.  Of course Chariot couldn’t afford a place of her own.  Of course some nice guy had come along, and Chariot had needed the company, and one thing turned into another, until-

Chariot burst out in laughter.  “I’m kidding,” she said.  “Of course I’m not married!”

“Fuck you.”

“Please,” Chariot said, her hand now trailing down Croix’s stomach.  “It’s been four years.  You have a lot of time to make up for.”

 

* * *

 

Somehow, Chariot’s joke had ensured sleep wouldn’t happen.

The sheets were a sweaty mess, kicked off the bed sometime in the past couple hours (only after the handcuffs had gotten caught in them for the tenth time), and the room was hot.

They were done this time.  Probably.  Croix was exhausted.

Even Chariot seemed done.  Since a few minutes ago, she had seemed bothered by something.  She kept fidgeting, and she pulled away from Croix, which, alone, was cause for concern because Chariot _never_ grew tired of cuddling.  Croix was worried she’d realized how messed up their relationship was, and how bad of an idea it was to try and rekindle it, but these worries were assuaged when Chariot finally spoke.

“So, uh, hey, Croix?”

“Yes?”

“I kinda need to use the bathroom.”


	19. New House

The car drive was weird.  Diana hadn’t seemed interested in conversation.

Returning to Diana’s neighbourhood was weird.  Akko so obviously did not belong there.

Entering Diana’s house was weird.  She was reminded of what had transpired last time.

All that said, the recent fire had brought Akko into a much better headspace, and now she was bursting with questions for Diana.  But it wasn’t time for questions.  They went through the house into the kitchen, where Diana motioned to a chair.  Akko sat down, wondering if she was the first to ever sit in the chair.  And then she stared at the machine on the counter that Diana was filling with water, and it was not a coffee machine – Akko could recognize those – and then she realized it was for _tea_.

“You’re cheating on the coffee cult!” Akko blurted out.

“I’m what now?” Diana said.

“You drink coffee.”

“That’s correct.  Coffee in the morning, tea at night.”

“Is that even allowed?” Akko said.  “You – you’re a two-timer!”

Diana stepped away from the counter and took a seat at the table.  She looked at loss for what to say.  “Don’t make me regret this.”

Akko bit her tongue to prevent any immediate retort, and then she picked a harmless question.  “Not selfish,” she said.  “That can’t really be the reason you’re helping me, can it?

“If you’ll listen, I would like to share my... story isn’t quite the right word, but rather, my perspective on the matter,” Diana said.

Akko waited, desperate to hear more.  It took her a few seconds (and an expectant gaze) to realize Diana was actually waiting for a confirmation that Akko would listen.

“Yes!  I wanna hear it!” she said.

Diana nodded and looked away.  “The House of Cavendish is very rich and influential.  My family has a long history of socialites and politicians since the sixteenth century.  I had every resource I could have possibly wanted, growing up.  High school, I completed two years early, and with my family’s influence, I went to work for the government.  This was not a decision I had to make.  It was simply a given – not that I minded this.  I was relieved, actually, to know there were no stressful decisions, or important moments in my future.  I suppose it may be because, around this time, my mother passed away.

“She was a great woman, and the most selfless person I ever knew.  Always looking for ways to help other people.  She worked at the hospital for over two decades, and when her health started to fail her and she was unable to physically attend to patients, she went to work for the Department of Health, because she didn’t want to stop improving the lives of others.  She spent more time caring for others than for herself, and as terrible as this may sound, I wish she hadn’t.  Maybe then, she would have lived longer, and even been able to help more people.  Though I’m sure she didn’t see it that way.  It wasn’t in her nature to stop thinking of what she could do for other people.  When she had passed away, it had been a long time coming.  Without her guidance, I thought I would follow in her footsteps as closely as possible.  I had wanted to emulate my mother.”

The water was boiling and the tea maker beeped.  Diana rose.

“I’m sorry,” Akko said.

“As am I,” Diana said.  “Tea?”

“Uh-”

“Earl grey, green, or Oolong?”

“Green.”

Somehow, Akko couldn’t refuse.  Refusing anything while hearing Diana’s story felt like it would have been a slight against her.  (And maybe, just a little bit, Akko was remembering Diana’s reaction when she said she didn’t drink coffee.)

Tea infusers in their cups of water, Diana returned to her seat.  “For some time, I worked as assistant secretary to the Office of Terrorism and Financial Intelligence.  There, I listened and I learned.  The OTFI has many sub-departments, and I spent some time with the Office of Intelligence and Analysis, which focuses on collection and analysis of foreign information.  Our government has its share of problems, but I saw the true nature of the rest of the world, during my time there.  It is not pretty, compared to the first world country we live in.  Unsure of what to do with myself, I remained with the OTFI and, with the help of a family friend, joined the Cryptocurrency Misuse Task Force.  But my skill set had me doing different work than you might imagine.  Logistics.  Behind my desk, day in, day out.  I didn’t do fieldwork.  I _don_ _’t_ do fieldwork.”

Diana retrieved the two cups and placed one in front of Akko.  She stared at her tea.  Yuck?   _Yuck_.  Thankfully, it was too hot to drink right away.

“Prior to this whole debacle, I had never gone out on an assignment before,” Diana said.  “One of my responsibilities consisted of receiving relevant and promising tips from the call centre.  I would investigate them from my desk, and those I deemed worthy, I then passed on to a team member to continue the investigation.  Never before had a tip regarding Team Polaris reached me.  They were usually filtered out as delusional ravings much earlier in the process, but... but I think I had always been waiting for one.”

She blew on her tea, and then took a small sip.

“What?” Akko whispered.  “Why?”

“Shortly before my mother’s death, she said a lot of things I don’t understand.  Nonsense, most of it, but she spoke of her regrets, on multiple occasions.  About someone she failed.  About someone she used.  Of unchecked anger.  Of broken promises.  Yet – yet she would always return to the government and Team Polaris.  After Team Polaris’ famous theft, her health went downhill rapidly.  I had been too young to think of asking outright, but I believe she knew something the rest of us didn’t.  Her position wasn’t one such that she would be involved in safeguarding the money, but I think, maybe, she had a chance to stop the theft, and for some reason didn’t.  This guilt must have worsened her condition, and she never recovered.

“I recall one particular day.  She had called me to her room, and shared with me her two greatest fears.  The first was her fear that one day, the lost six hundred billion would be recovered.  Those were her _exact_ words.  She never specified by whom.  It wasn’t a fear the money would be recovered by bad people, and used to harm the country.  Not a fear it would be recovered and spent in a terrible way-”

Like on coins, gasoline, and food?  Akko winced.

“-but simply recovered, period.  She didn’t want it ever seeing the light of day again.  I hadn’t even asked why, but I think I can understand it a little, now that I’m older.  And her second greatest fear was...”  Diana stopped herself and looked away.  “Nothing important.  Never mind it.  Just a common, motherly concern.  But because of that memory, I felt obligated to investigate the tip.  To do one last thing, for my mother.”

While Diana seemed distracted, Akko tried to drink as much tea as she could.  It burnt her throat and tasted like _plant_.  She wondered if there was a beef tea, and if so, how she would go about getting some.

“I wasn’t sympathetic with the government – ironic, considering the office I worked for.  But this helped my decision, or maybe I had, deep down inside, already knew what I wanted to do.  Then came the day I met you.  I had spent earlier that morning exploring Rastavan.  It was shocking, to say the least.  Knowing things on a large, global scale is different from experiencing it in person.”  Diana cupped her tea and stared into it.  “I have had a sheltered, quiet life, unaware of how people lived outside of the city centre.  I suppose this answers a few of your questions, but not the one you asked me.  No, you aren’t here because you performed one unselfish action.  Your energy is misguided, but I still admire it.  You don’t sit back and let the world lead you.”

What did it mean, for the world to lead someone?  Akko couldn’t understand, but she nodded because it sounded like a compliment (or, because, if the world didn’t lead her, that meant she led the world).

“You seem to always act and never hesitate,” Diana went on.  “Whether it’s to harass your customers, stand up for your customers, or try to burn your customers’ houses down.

“But you’re an exception,” Akko said.

“I am loath to hear it,” Diana said with a smile.  “But that’s how it is.  Despite all your issues, you have somehow earned a modicum of my respect.”

“I get it,” Akko said.  “I’ll do my best not to disappoint you, Diana!”

Diana took a drink of her tea.  “I should hope so.”

“But there’s one question I still have.”

Diana looked up, surprised.

“Why the big house?” Akko said.  “It’s way too much for one person.”

“It was an investment my mother made, before she passed away.  I couldn’t bring myself to sell it, and it wasn’t as though I needed money.”

_Oh_.  Sentimental value.  And Akko had tried to burn it.   _Whoops_.

 

* * *

 

Their tea done (Akko had managed, perhaps inspired by Diana’s words), Diana was leaning against the kitchen counter, her arms crossed.  Akko was in her seat, listening like a good girl would.

“You can stay here until you find a place of your own, so long as you abide by the house rules,” Diana said.  “Number one: don’t burn the house.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Or any of its contents.”

Akko thought about it for a moment.  “But what if I take the contents out of the house before I burn them?”

“No.”

“Understood, ma’am!” Akko said (though Diana did not look convinced).  “No burning your stuff.  Next?”

“The next rule is-” And Diana paused, leading Akko to hope there wasn’t another.  “-no immoral behaviour.  You may be unemployed, but you are no longer living with the dregs of society.  There is a certain standard you must hold yourself to, now.  If I hear even a peep out of any of the neighbours about odd sounds, sights, or smells coming from this house, you’re out.”

“Absolutely, ma’am!” Akko said.

“Then I will show you to your room.  Follow me.”

“Affirmative, ma’am!” Akko said, following her out of the kitchen.  If there were any more commands, she’d run out of synonyms.

“Rule three, don’t call me ma’am.”

“Aye, ma-” Akko stopped herself just in time.

At this rate, Diana was liable to abuse her rule creation power.  But Akko didn’t mind.  She would prove she could follow rules, even when she’d failed to do so in elementary school.

They stopped next to one of the previously empty rooms.

“Here it is,” Diana said.

Akko stepped inside.  Now, it had furniture.  A brand new bed, a desk completely void of items, and a dresser.

“Whoa.”  Akko ran a finger along the desk.  Solid oak.  Expensive.  “This is new.”

“After you burned my room, I had the house properly furnished.”

“Oh.  Well, you’re welcome.”

“Excuse me?”

“If burning your room down is what it took for you to make this place actually feel lived in, then you’re welcome.”

“That was not my reason for furnishing the place.  The timing just so happened to coincide.”

Akko jumped onto the bed and spread her arms out.

Diana stepped out of the room.  “As it would seem all your belongings have perished in the fire, I will lend you a pair of pyjamas, but you should go shopping tomorrow.”

Akko saluted to the ceiling.  “Yes, ma-”  Rule three was no fun.  “-okay.”

 

* * *

 

That night, Akko had a fretful sleep, with dreams of fire and golden hair.  It was problematic, because usually dreams with fire were peaceful.  (It was the dreams of snow and the cold which she hated.)  Multiple times in the night, she woke with a dry throat and fumbled around the hallways into the kitchen for a glass of water.

The final time she woke, it had been in the middle of a conversation with Big F, and when she realized she was awake now and had been sleeping before, an emptiness ran through her and she pulled the covers over her head, locking herself in the dark, warm world underneath.  With a deep, shuddering breath, she tried to calm herself.  The air under the blankets was stuffy, but denying the sunlight helped.

That desire to speak with Big F one last time – it wouldn’t ever go away, would it?

In the kitchen, Diana was already awake and sipping coffee as she read the morning news on her tablet.

The morning light shone through the window down on Diana, like an angel who had descended from heaven, and Akko stopped to admire everything for one, candid moment.  It was the perfect picture; Diana wasn’t yet aware of her.  Hair gold in the light, coffee cup in hand, and head leaning on her other hand.  She was in her running attire – sweatpants, instead of shorts, because it was a cold morning.

Was Akko the luckiest girl in the world?

“Good morning, Akko,” Diana said, looking up.  “Did you sleep well?”

Akko took a few seconds to respond.  “Yeah.  Much comfier than my futon was.”

“That is good to hear,” Diana said.  It looked like she was going to say something else, but hesitated.  She then glanced at the clock and stood up.  “Unlike someone in this house, I am employed, so, as much as I would like to, I cannot sit around and talk.  As per the rules set out yesterday, I expect the house to be undamaged upon my return.”

Shortly thereafter, Diana left for her morning run.  Again, that incomprehensible thing called exercise.  It was half an hour later when she returned, all sweaty (Akko made sure to sneak a good look), and hopped in the shower.  And then, before Akko could even convince her to think about skipping work, she was dressed in a white collared shirt and blue jeans – the epitome of a businesswoman – and out the door and gone for the day.

Alone, Akko sat at the table and did a little thinking.  She wasn’t in a much better position than when they had first met.  Actually, if she was brave enough to recognize the reality of her situation, it was pretty dire.  Diana knew she was a mentally unstable, Zapped, uneducated drug dealer, which had to put her at, like, negative one thousand points, minus those from trying to burn down Diana’s house and consequently making Diana do some really shameful, really hot stuff.

But this invitation to stay in her house was good.  Akko could score some points.

One idea was to cook supper naked with only an apron on.  Diana would come home after a hard day’s work, and Akko would greet her at the door with a ladle in hand and a suave “hey, honey”.  The likelihood of Diana throwing herself at Akko and ravishing her was (exceedingly) low, unfortunately.  It would most likely end in being kicked out of the house – still naked, because Diana certainly wouldn’t give her a chance to get dressed after a failed attempt like that.

That didn’t stop Akko from trying on various aprons – who had aprons when they didn’t even cook? – and practising different lines.  She even found the fancy camera in the other room, and after fiddling with the timer setting, started snapping pictures of herself.  And it was kind of fun, trying to get all the poses right.  Every time the camera flashed, she felt like a model.  She had never been particularly confident about her body (in spite of her usual bravado), but she was quite satisfied with how the pictures came out.

Her next idea was to buy a box of rose petals and a bunch of candles to light a path from the entryway upstairs to the master bedroom, where she would be waiting in lingerie.  This idea fell through when Akko realized she had burnt the bedroom down, and lighting hundreds of candles throughout the house probably _wouldn’t_ impress Diana, no matter how romantic it was.  Diana was just that weird.

Despite the impossibility of this plan, Akko borrowed Diana’s laptop.  Diana was generous enough to have set up a guest account with the password ‘d1v1n3seaweedp0tat035’.  (Upon request for an explanation, Diana had said she changed her passwords monthly and they were entirely random.)

With online access (and feeling only a little sad her own laptop had been destroyed in a fire), Akko browsed online stores for flower petals and candles.  She may have clicked purchase on a few items.  That was fine, though.  Accidents happened.

Beyond giving Akko online access, Diana had been unusually trustworthy.  She had given Akko keys to the house, and to the vehicle, too, so she could go clothes shopping.  One thing that hadn’t been lost in the coffee shop fire was the ten thousand dollars Croix had given her.  That had been put in the bank (buried in the junkyard).

But before Akko could prepare for a shopping spree, the doorbell rang.

The one person who belonged in the neighbourhood maybe less than Akko was at the door.

“Hi, Wire,” she said.

“Echo.  Good to see Sucy provided the right address, and better to see you still hanging on.”

“How’s everything going?” Akko said.

“I’ve spent the morning talking with Sucy and Lotte.”  He paused.  “They told me some wild stuff.”

Akko nodded.  “It has been a wild past few days.”

She recounted her side of the story.  He needed to know what was going on, if he was to take over Big F’s job.

“And the safe is fireproof,” she added, after explaining the coffee shop’s burning.  “So the papers in there are fine.  Did – did Big F have a will?”

“Yes.”  Wire checked his watches (he didn’t sell those, but still had four of them on each wrist).  “I’m speaking with the lawyer at four thirty.  The government will seize as much as they can, though.  The best we can do is delay demolition with a legal battle.”

“I lost my laptop, but Constanze has the data backed up online.  I can get you anything you need.”

“Akko,” he said.  “I want to be clear, I’m not taking over.  I have no interest in trying to manage what Big F has created.”

“You aren’t?” Akko said.  “But then... who?”

The following conversation, which Wire had apparently placed some hopes on, didn’t yield any good suggestions.  He told her to think about it, and she said she would, despite not feeling optimistic about the situation, and then he left.

 

* * *

 

Her second visitor of the day was annoyed.  Akko opened the door to a frowning (when was she not?) Sucy.

“There have been unforeseen consequences to burning the coffee shop down,” Sucy said without delay.

“Such as?”

“I no longer have a place to distribute from.”

But that had been foreseeable.  Maybe not to Akko, who tended to be blinded by flames, but in Sucy’s case, shouldn’t it have been really, really obvious?

“And,” Sucy continued, “I refuse to sell out of my house.  No good ever comes of that.”

“I get it,” Akko said.  “But I can’t really help you.  I don’t have a place anymore.”

Sucy looked up and around, and raised her brows.

“ _No_ ,” Akko said.  “This is Diana’s place.  She’s not going to let you sell drugs-”

“Potions.”

“-potions here.”  What did Sucy think she was, a witch?  Whatever happened to muffins, crafts, and mushrooms?  No, wait – that last euphemism was witchy, too.

“Have you tried asking her?” Sucy said.

“No.”

“Good.  Don’t.  How big is her garage?  Don’t give me that look – this is your fault.  You burned down not just your livelihood, but mine, too.  You need to think about the consequences of your actions.”

“Okay.  Then what about the consequences of disobeying Diana?”

“You think too much.  Live in the moment.”

“I don’t plan on staying here long,” Akko said.  “But I like Diana, and don’t want to screw it up.”

“But you will,” Sucy said, handing her a phone.  “Here.  Think on it.”

Akko took the phone and examined it.  ‘Echo’ was engraved on the back, identical to her old one.

“Courtesy of Constanze,” Sucy said.

“You told her my old cell burned?”

Sucy gave her a look.  “I didn’t even know that.”

“Then how did she know?”

“Better not to think about it,” Sucy said, shrugging.  “Instead, think about turning Miss Government’s garage into something useful.  And I want my month’s money.  Thirty-two bags of muffins – that’s one grand.”

 

* * *

 

After Sucy’s visit, Akko decided to spend some time outside.  There, she discovered the yard was large and completely fenced.  Hedges and trees lined the property, too, for privacy.  Akko checked out the garden, where she could identify carrot stalks and lettuce, but not much else.  She wasn’t a vegetable person.

Despite the grass growing tall, she walked around the edge of the yard.  It would have been perfect for a dog.  She should tell Diana to get a dog.  Or maybe a cat.  Diana was probably a cat person, no?


	20. Slide Show

As supper was nearing – and thus, the time Diana would return home – Akko turned her attention to cooking.

Maybe her first idea hadn’t been all that bad – just not the naked part.  The way to a woman’s heart was through her stomach.  Well, not really, but people liked food.  Go figure.  Akko could cook a pretty darn good steak – she’d had lots of experience – so shopping was the next chore on the list.

Usually, the car wouldn’t respond to a Zapped, but Diana had given her a special key.  It was an expensive one, designed in case of Network outages, so it didn’t require the passenger to be connected to the Network.  It was a little weird, though, to climb into a vehicle, tap a few buttons, and sit back.  Manufacturers still made manual vehicles, but they didn’t sell too well and weren’t much seen on the road.  Self-driving was just so much more convenient.

Akko smiled to herself as it drove through town.  When stopped at intersections, the billboards couldn’t identify her so they displayed random items, like shovels and camera lenses.  Actually, maybe they weren’t so much random as much as they were targeting the owner of the vehicle.

At the store, she felt very out of place.  People weren’t staring at her, but she wouldn’t have blamed them if they did.  It was the first time she’d set foot in a supermarket since her parents had left the country, and she was inundated by so many different brands.  The colourful displays and the countless products gave Akko pause, and people pushed their carts past her like she was an obstacle on a highway.

If it were a date, what would Akko have made?  She walked the aisles thinking about it.  Steak wasn’t a good choice, unfortunately.  She didn’t know how well done Diana liked her steak, and it would have to be pan-fried rather than done over a grill, which wasn’t nearly as fun.

At the register, she gave them Diana’s card – seriously, how could someone trust a near-stranger so much? – and with bags of food, she hopped into the patiently waiting car, and it brought her home.

The kitchen was a delight.  Akko had gotten used to cooking at the coffee shop – which had a cramped but functional kitchen – and at Amanda’s place – where the cupboard contents changed daily, making following a recipe about as easy as starting a fire underwater.  Expectations going in were low, but she was quickly blown away by how high tech everything was.  Even the buttons on the microwave were so elegant and responsive.  Putting all the pots and pans to work almost made her feel guilty, since it seemed like they hadn’t ever been used before.

The poor aprons she’d subjected to a photoshoot the other day were left alone as she set about preparing dinner.  Somehow, Akko couldn’t bring herself to use one, even though it would have been a _proper_ use, this time.

Chicken was relatively easy to start – with plenty of spices in the spice drawer to flavour – so Akko focused most of her attention on what other people would manage as an afterthought: the greens.  Since salad wasn’t cooked over a fire (or microwaved, she was pretty sure), Akko didn’t have much experience with them.  Thankfully, the concept of a salad was still pretty straightforward.

Sometime later, she stood back and examined her handiwork.

Chicken, gratin potatoes, dinner buns, and salad covered the grain, meat, and green requirement, and she had bought milk at the store (the dairy requirement being second in importance only to meat).  There was absolutely no way Diana wouldn’t be impressed.  Even Akko was impressed.  And, as if on cue, she heard the garage door begin to open.  After double checking everything was set and satisfactory – not quite _perfect_ , as she hadn’t learned how to fold origami napkins – she rushed over to the door and waited.

It opened a few moments later, and Akko couldn’t hide her excitement.  With a smile plastered on her face, she bounced on the balls of her feet and clapped her hands.

“Welcome back, Diana.”

Diana looked apprehensive.  She blinked a few times, and took a cautious step inside (looking around, and even up, as though a trap were waiting to be sprung).

“Is something wrong?” Akko said.

“No.”  Diana took off her shoes.  “I simply did not expect you to greet me at the door.  I suppose I’m not yet adjusted to someone else living here.”

Akko grinned.  “We’ll be best buds in no time, don’t worry!”

“I smell food,” Diana said, looking towards the kitchen.

“I made supper.”

“You did?”  She appeared doubtful.  “Safe for human consumption?”

“Don’t be like that,” Akko whined, taking her hand.  “Now come on, let’s eat while it’s hot!”

Diana was impressed.  It was so obvious.  After the first moment, where it looked like she was going to lodge a complaint, she thanked Akko and they sat down for a pleasant meal.

Akko tried the obvious conversation starter – asking about Diana’s work – but discovered it didn’t make for happy conversation.  After all, Diana worked for the government.  

Citing stress-related reasons, Diana had requested a transfer within the department.  Knowing the identities of Team Polaris’ members, as well as knowing the private key had been destroyed, she told Akko there was no longer any reason for her to work for the task force, whose number one most wanted was one Team Polaris’ leader (there was also something mentioned about morals, but Akko had missed that part).

The details on what had happened four years ago seemed murky, and Diana explained it was because of how segregated the government was.  Some factions believed the entirety of Team Polaris had been arrested, which was the lie spread to prevent any negative sentiments of e-coins from growing.  Out of the government employees who were too smart to believe such a lie, most believed the private key to the funds had been lost in a raid, but Team Polaris had still escaped.

This discussion proved valuable to Akko, who was still trying to figure out how exactly she would stop the government.  But it was obvious Diana did not enjoy the subject.  She didn’t exactly have a pained expression, per se, but she was tense and the longer the conversation went on, the more it seemed to drain her energy.  So Akko tried her best to divert the conversation away from governments and politics.  Photography ended up being a safe subject, and even though Akko knew nothing about the technical stuff, it was still easy to talk about.

In fact, the picture slide-show on the wall, Diana revealed, were mostly pictures she had taken.  Akko turned around to look at it.

The current picture was monochrome.  A black cat crossing a deserted street.  It had been taken from the middle of the road, low to the ground so it was almost looking up at the cat, and all the houses and trees on the side were out of focus.  The cat seemed unaware it was the subject of the picture.  In a way Akko couldn’t quite pinpoint, it made her feel lonely.  And sad.  She couldn’t help but feel like that had been how Diana had felt, when she’d taken the picture.  It was, in a word, depressing.

This house needed more life.

“You’re a cat person, aren’t you?” Akko said.

Diana looked pensive.  “Between dogs and cats, I would say neither.  I’m indifferent to animals.”

“Oh, good.  ‘Cause I was thinking sugar glider.  They’re so cute.”

“We are _not_ getting a pet.”

Akko liked the ‘we’, and how casually Diana had used it.  “Eh?  I think it’s a little bold to skip directly to a child.”

“A – a _child_?”  Diana’s voice rose a notch.  “That – that’s-”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.  It was just a joke.”

Diana stabbed at her salad, the tips of her ears tinged red.  “ _Obviously_ .  But I believe I have mentioned something about _tact_ , before.  Or are you proud of your inability to filter such childish thoughts?”

It was Akko’s turn to stab at her plate.  She ate a mouthful of chicken, and then looked at Diana’s near-empty dish.  The meal was almost over, and Diana hadn’t touched any of chicken.

“Try some of the chicken,” Akko said.

“I’m vegetarian.”

“Eh?  But – but – _are you sure?_ ”

“Quite.”

The meal dropped several stars in rating as Akko processed this new information.  Salad, potatoes, and buns sounded much less impressive.  And how could Diana be indifferent to animals, and yet a vegetarian?

Akko jumped to her feet.  “But what about the fridge magnets!”

“Fridge magnets?” Diana said.

Akko stormed over to the fridge, gesturing wildly.  “Yanne’s Pizza.  Medium meat lover’s for seven e-coins!”

“I apologize, Akko, but that’s not even mine.  One of my friends put it there when she came over.”

“You have frien-”  Akko stopped herself, but it was too late.

A dark looked cross Diana’s face as she set her fork down very carefully.  “It should go without saying that I have friends.  And they are respectable people, who are capable of thinking before they speak.  Yes, such people exist in the world, and in greater numbers than you might think.  The question should not be whether I have friends, but whether _you_ have friends.  Sucy herself has proven she does not value your friendship, and whatever it is Lotte values in you, I find it highly questionable that it is anything good.”

What did Lotte value in her?  The connection to Big F?  But now that he was dead... well, it explained why she’d refused Akko a place to stay.   _But no!_  Diana’s words were corrupting her thinking.  Akko and Lotte were friends.  Akko and Sucy were friends.  Sure, they showed it in different ways than normal people might (like with red buttons that started fires), but that didn’t matter.  Friends.  End of story.

Akko needed to defend her friends.  “My friends are good!”   _Excellent_.  Well spoken, Akko.  Now show some backbone.  “And – and I bet you’re lying!  I bet you don’t have any friends!  And that’s why you’re getting all high and mighty on me!”

“Akko,” Diana said.  “I have afforded you every hospitality.  I have given you my trust, which is not something easy to come by, and I have attempted to be amiable towards you, but do not mistake this for anything it is not.  You have earned this through your actions.  While eating the private key was not the most refined tactic, it does not change the fact that it was something I was too weak to do.  For this, I am thankful.  But understand this: my patience is not without limits.  If you wish to not become homeless, then you will _think_ before you act.  That is the least you should be capable of.”

Diana rose from her seat and took her dishes to the counter.  There, she stood silent and unmoving.  Akko didn’t know what to do.  Going on the offence wasn’t supposed to destroy everything she was working towards.  Maybe a ‘sorry’ would suffice, just like it seemed to for every other screw up?

But before she could prepare the apology, Diana spoke.

“I’ve had a stressful day, Akko,” she said.  “And I would appreciate it if you could forget this conversation took place.  Now, I think I will head to bed before either of us say something else we’ll regret.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning was entirely Akko’s fault.  There was no other way to put it.  

She woke up at an ungodly hour, planning to make it up to Diana.  The house was quiet, the floor cold, and she heard the thrum of the furnace start up as she was getting dressed.

Step one to fixing her mistakes of the other day was to start on the right foot, so Akko went to the kitchen to start up the coffee machine.  Unfortunately, she was too slow.  The coffee machine, as though it knew she was approaching, started itself.  Akko sighed.  Of course it was on a timer.  A fresh cup would already be brewed and waiting by the time Diana entered the kitchen.  Humans weren’t needed in such a simple process.  Well, what good was Akko, then?

She demoted herself to a dog, and went to fetch the paper.  Only the door had no mail slot.  Of course there wasn’t.  This neighbourhood dealt in electronic newspapers; there wouldn’t be any waste of paper, here.  Akko stomped back to the kitchen.  A bacon and eggs breakfast was out of the question, and an egg breakfast just didn’t sound impressive enough.

Realizing she hadn’t planned well enough, Akko collapsed into a chair at the table.  There was nothing to do.  With a sigh, she rested her head in her arms, and in minutes, she was asleep.

It was then that the bad truly started.

She woke to a _crack-splat_ sound that never, in any context, could have meant something good.  Lifting her head off the table, she wiped the drool from her lips.  In front of her stood Diana.  At her feet, a carton of eggs – though most had fallen out and met their death in a rather gruesome manner.  Astonishingly, Diana didn’t seem troubled by the eggs at her feet.  Instead, she was staring straight ahead.  For a second, Akko thought she’d done something wrong (she had), but then realized with (short-lasting) relief that Diana was looking past her, an expression of absolute shock on her face.

Diana’s lips quivered, and then her mouth opened, but no sound came out.  Instead, she was blushing furiously.  With a feeling of dread, Akko turned around to see what had caused the disaster.

The disaster had been caused by a disaster in and of itself.

Oh, how Akko wished she were dead.

The slide-show picture on the wall, which usually showed nature scenery, now showed Akko.  She was naked but for a red apron covering her modest chest and lower parts.  Like a model, she was posed leaning over, a slightly (very) erotic look on her face as she pushed the end of the apron between her legs.

How did Akko ever think taking semi-nude pictures of herself was a halfway decent idea?  How did Akko ever think she looked good in those pictures?  How had Akko ever thought answering the door like that was not the most embarrassing idea in the world?

And how in the _duck_ did those pictures get up on the wall?

“It’s not what it looks like.”  The words left her lips of their own accord.  Hadn’t Croix said something similar, recently?  Akko would have to do better.  “That’s actually my evil twin sister.”

(In spite of the current situation, she dedicated a moment of her time to be slightly horrified that she may actually have a sister or brother, somewhere in Japan, and not know about it.)

Diana didn’t say anything.  She was still staring – could she _please_ stop staring – and the slide-show was still showing the picture of Akko – could it please hurry up and change – and Akko was split between doing physical damage to herself or to the picture screen.   _Both_ was a very plausible answer with each passing second.

And then, to her relief, the picture changed.

And then, to her horror, the picture had changed.

It was a picture from behind, capturing her _behind_ , as she twisted back to look into the camera with a surprised expression.  Her current expression was probably a much better display of shock than was shown in the picture.

There was one good solution to this.  Even without a devil on her left shoulder, the words were still clear in her mind.   _Self-immolate_.  Was the gas can still in the garage?

But before she parted from the mortal coil, she needed to know _how_?  Who had hated her so much as to condemn her to such a fate?  Had Amanda somehow gained access to the house?

“So – uh – how did pictures of my evil twin get on there?” Akko said.

Diana jerked her head partially towards Akko, but couldn’t make eye-contact (go figure).  Her face was beet red as she answered in a distant voice, “My camera automatically syncs its pictures to the slide-show.”

So Akko had nobody to blame but herself.  She needed out, but before she could move, the doorbell rang and Diana immediately went to answer it.  Perhaps she needed out more than Akko.

The worst had already come, Akko concluded, but still, she found the switch on the picture frame and shut the thing down.  Darned technology.

As she set about cleaning up the eggs – which had had a more merciful fate than herself – she tried to listen to the conversation at the door.  As it turned out, it was relatively short, because Diana returned just as Akko finished wiping the floor.

The worst had already come?

Then why, pray tell, did Diana look extremely hot (angry)?  She stalked over to the table and dropped two medium sized boxes on it.

It took a second for Akko to realize they were the online purchases she’d made the other day (darned twenty-four hour delivery).  The candles were in a box that had decided to communicate with symbols rather than text.  Instead of saying there were two hundred candles in the box, they chose to put one hundred fire symbols on it.

No, that didn’t bode well for Akko.

It didn’t help that the two thousand plastic rose petals came in a box labelled _TheWeddingCompany_.

“Would you care to explain?” Diana said.  “Or shall I open it myself?”

“You can – uh – _not_ open it.  I think that would be a very good idea.”

“I trusted you.  I don’t know why – I don’t know how I could – but I did.  I guess-” and she laughed bitterly “-that I thought I could change you, in this environment, but that was a ludicrous notion.  You’re a broken, disgusting excuse for a human being.”

And without eating breakfast, Diana stormed out of the house.

 

* * *

 

Akko was useless for the next couple hours.  More useless than normal.  She even started missing her coffee shop, which was a very bad sign.  Within the first half our, Akko resigned herself to the fact that it hadn’t been a sudden departure for Diana’s morning run.  She wasn’t coming back anytime soon.

At noon, the doorbell rang, and Akko peeled her face off the kitchen table and moved for the first time since morning.

At the door was Amanda.

“What’s with your face?” she said.  “Well, never mind.  Constanze needs a favour.”


	21. Drive More

The trick was confidence.

That’s what everyone said, but to Amanda, it wasn’t a trick.  It was common sense.  And, in her case, an inevitability.  If you couldn’t be confident in existing, then what point was there to it all?

In elementary school, it had been easy.  She took what she wanted, and even things she didn’t want, and stuffed it in her backpack.  Getting caught never mattered, because the punishments contained little more than harsh words and wasted lunch hours.  By the end of her fifth year, the closet in her room contained a hundred plus erasers, dozens of rulers, countless pencils of varying sizes, and who-knew-how-many sets of colouring crayons.

Most of those had ended up in the garbage, in preparation for her sixth year.  In that regard, summer cleaning had taken on a new meaning to her.

Her first bike had been in sixth grade, and her first vehicle in seventh.  They were thefts of opportunity, but had opened up a whole new world to her.  Her parents had always been there, but not there.  So when it finally came time, she was kicked out because she was too expensive to feed, not because of any crimes she’d committed (which they had never known about).

But calling it ‘kicked out’ was generous, since she’d already been fending for herself for years.  It wasn’t much of a change, yet becoming homeless marked the first real years of her life, or so she considered.  Before, she hadn’t been living.  Not truly.

But living was hard.  Her criminal record had grown too long in too short of a time, and eventually she had to disconnect from the Network if she wanted to go anywhere.  

One winter, she had spent all her money on clothing and blankets to fight off the cold, and she’d been left with a growling stomach.  Having not eaten in days, she took her knife and visited a gas station.  It wasn’t her style.  Night was her shield, but desperation drew her out in daylight.  She entered the store, and there were shelves upon shelves of food.  It was mostly junk food.  A hundred different brands of chocolates and chips – who needed so many choices? – and fridges of pop and juices and shelves of freshly made sandwiches – and she ran a finger along the blade in her pocket, restraining herself from attacking the food like a rabid animal.

It was a mistake, so obviously a mistake, but she was going to do it anyways.  And once she had done one gas station, the next would come easier, and the third one wouldn’t even require any forethought, and it would be a slippery slope until finally a cashier pulled out a gun and shot her dead on the spot – but she felt so weak and desperate and she _needed_ food.

Till first – that would be the best loot, and she could grab a handful of items on the way out.  She got in line.  There was only one other customer in the shop.  A large girl in front of her in line.  A non-threat, and she would be gone in a few seconds, anyways.  Amanda didn’t look down, didn’t shift in place, didn’t fidget or let her eyes dart around.  She stood in line like a normal human being, her bored gaze resting on the cigarettes behind the counter.

The girl in front of her finished her purchase.  A bag of chips, among an assortment of other items.  Rather than leave, she immediately popped the bag of chips open, and dug in.  But as she was bringing the first chip to her mouth, she seemed to think better of it.  She turned to Amanda.

“Hungry?” she said.

Amanda nodded, and the hold on her knife in her pocket lessened.

 

* * *

 

That wasn’t the end of it.  It was just another start (was life supposed to have multiple false starts?).  Jasminka had brought her to Rastavan, where she’d met the ingenious mute, Constanze, who supposedly wasn’t actually mute but Amanda wasn’t convinced.

Constanze needed a certain circuit board for one of her projects, and Amanda had acquired it.  And then she needed a transverse leaf spring, an electromechanical solenoid, and three litres of hybrid organic antifreeze (hello, weird druggie neighbour who always wears a lab coat and has a mushroom stuck in her hair).

Life moved quick.  Before Amanda could even understand, she was living in their apartment, sharing the rent, and calling the two girls her friends.  But there was a problem – one that had always existed.  She was never content unless she held something that did not belong in her hands.  And these somethings were generally useless to her – computer parts she didn’t even recognize, jewellery she would never wear, food she hated.

And so sometimes she would try to refrain.

But abstaining was even more dangerous.  Those were the darker moments, when everything felt so pointless.  She would forget to eat, or sometimes not bother, and Jasminka would have to force granola bars down her throat, all the while Amanda would wonder if, had she stopped breathing, the pointlessness would also come to a stop.

Once, during a bad spell, she had acquired a gun (hello, fairy-talking gun-owning weirdo), and spent the day deliberating.  Eventually, it would be done, but she had decided it wouldn’t be then.  Her greatest caper occurred a week later.  It had been against the government – one of her favourite targets – and it had actually required planning, which took some of the fun out of it.  Only a little bit of planning, though, and only a little bit less fun.  With some tech from Constanze, she slipped into a government facility and stole a massive, armoured vehicle.

If not for the inexplicable feeling that she needed to look after Jasminka and Constanze, she would’ve ended it then.  It would have been so easy, and so meaningful – it was the peak of her career, and disappointment only awaited her.   _Keep driving the armoured car_.  That was all she needed to do.  Turn out onto the freeway, where the helicopters would be able to swoop in, and put pedal to the metal.  It would be one last drive, where she tested herself and the vehicle to its limits – a wild adrenaline rush, unforgettable, chaotic, and worthy of the ambitions of her childhood.  She could go where she wanted, dragging her pursuers around like fish on a line, and then, when she had no more whims left and she was completely satisfied and feared only the future, it could all end in the blink of an eye.  Because going out with a bang was the only way to it, and it felt like it needed to be done sooner, rather than later.

But none of that had come to pass.  Instead, she had lost her pursuers and stored the vehicle – practically a tank without a gun – in a warehouse in Rastavan.

And now, with Big F dead, the property was owned by the government, and she needed to move the vehicle.  It was her most valued possession, and selling it (unlike everything else she’d ever fenced) would have been akin to selling her own heart.

 

* * *

 

Amanda woke from her midday nap with a profound feeling of lacking.  Reaching out, she pulled the gun from her bedside table.  It had a single shot in it, and she pressed it against the palm of her hand.  What would happen if she pulled the trigger?  Would that solve the problem?  She trailed the gun up her arm, to her shoulder, and then stopped at her neck.

Today was the day.  But not with a gun.

Soon, Rastavan was going to meet the end of its life.  Sucy and Lotte had dropped by, and they had recounted the insanity that was Team Polaris.  Big F hadn’t just been a gang leader – and knowing this made Amanda feel a little better.  She’d always thought of him as someone more, but he was a quiet man and had never spoken of his past.  But this good feeling was offset by the discovery of Team Polaris’ leader being a stage magician.  Her role model was a fake.

After Sucy and Lotte had left, Amanda took some time to think.  The fall of Rastavan was a good time.  Could she find someone to look after Constanze?  Could she find someone to help with all the tinkering and lost tools and needed parts?  What about Jasminka, and the grocery bills?  Would they be fine without her and Big F?

Echo would handle it.  As stupid and annoying as she was, she was a reliable acquaintance.  And now, according to Lotte, Echo had befriended a Cavendish – somehow, someway – and that would be more than enough resources to look after everyone, assuming Echo didn’t screw the pooch.

Jasminka had a blog where she critiqued and paired wine and cheese – no, _wait_ , that was movies and food.  It was a relatively popular blog.  In fact, Jasminka had been earning a living off of it for the past year, but she didn’t want to settle for that.  She had her sights set higher: it was her dream to be a screenwriter for a big studio.  When she wasn’t watching movies and eating – which was rare – she was at her large desk with her papers and pencils, writing away.  

There were no typewriters or computers at Jasminka’s desk – she had expressed distaste at typing (something about disrespecting her hands).  Whenever she had a script finished, it was left up to one of Constanze’s robots to transcribe it into a digital format.  This usually resulted in hilarious typos that stopped being funny when it became Amanda’s job to proofread it all.  But from this proofreading, Amanda had learned that Jasminka truly had the talent necessary, and she just needed the right story at the right time and a little bit of luck.

In fact, Amanda wasn’t all too worried about how Jasminka would cope after she’d left.  There was even the chance that it would inspire Jasminka to write a beautiful tragedy story – that was how it worked for writers, right?  Real life affected their writing.  No, Jasminka wasn’t a concern.  It was Constanze that would find trouble in the absence of Amanda.  It was Constanze who wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t go shopping, and wouldn’t socialize without Amanda’s encouragement.

She lived in the garage and slept in a greasy hammock with pillows of rags.  Her schedule involved showing up for oatmeal in the morning, a sandwich at noon (if she remembered), and ordering pizza online if it was her day to make supper.  Beyond that, she tinkered and tinkered and tinkered.  And, though Amanda would never admit it, this infuriated her.  Constanze could have been hired by a prominent tech company, if she tried.  She had the potential – just like Jasminka – to do great things, only she didn’t _want_ to.  She was content with her oily, dark garage and its contents.

It was this indifference that helped Amanda’s resolve.  She stepped out of her room, thinking only of where she would go, for her last drive.  There were some nice, scenic routes along the ocean.

Constanze, in a rare show of _something_ , was in their living room, rather than the garage.  She jumped up upon hearing Amanda.  Without even needing to ask what was up, Constanze motioned for her to follow.  So Amanda did.

Somehow, despite Constanze not ever talking, she had volunteered to search for the key to Chariot’s handcuffs.  If Amanda had tried to work it out, it would probably have been something like Chariot asking Lotte asking Sucy asking – threatening – Constanze.  In either case, Constanze had sent one of her fully autonomous robots down into the sewer.  It was the size of a small dog, the shape of a small dog, and it woofed.  So yeah, pretty much a robot dog.  It could walk, but it also had extensible wheels which it used for flat ground.  Equipped with a flashlight, video camera, and metal detector, Amanda estimated its hardware was worth several thousand e-coins and its software invaluable.

The robot had been set loose a couple hours ago, and now they were stationed in front of a bulky laptop in the garage, watching the robot’s footage because _something_ had gone wrong.

There were three possibilities Amanda had in mind.  It had either (1) gotten stuck in muck, (2) ran out of battery, or (3) broken down.  Option four wasn’t in the realm of existence until the grainy footage revealed the robot meandering down the dark cement tunnels, only to be suddenly lifted off the ground.  The camera shook, and the wheels and tracks whined uselessly without a surface to run on, and then the entire robot was spun around, momentarily shining its light on some figure.  A second later, an appendage covered the camera and there was a muffled sound.

After that, nothing but darkness and silence.

“Well, okay,” Amanda said.   _Lizard people.  Bad.  Very bad._ “Not a problem.  This is fine.  We’ll just go down there and politely ask for your robot back.”

 

* * *

 

Truth was, Amanda was _not_ going down there.  Her last day on earth would not involve mucking around in a sewer.  So she met with Chariot (and Croix), who made a surprising recommendation.  And that was when she hopped in the Shooting Star and drove through town, ending up in a rich suburb that made her want to puke.  It also made her want to visit some empty houses and grab a few mementoes of the visit, but she reminded herself that was no longer necessary; soon, nothing would be necessary.

The Cavendish family was rich.  In fact, they were literally called _the_ House of Cavendish.  A noble family.  In the twenty-first freaking century.  According to the Network, Diana was only eighteen years old and she had her own place.  A massive inheritance had come her way when her mother had passed away.  So how exactly she and Echo had become friends, Amanda didn’t know, but she was impressed and ready for the day Echo gave her the go-ahead to loot the place.

Not to mention, Diana Cavendish was hella pretty, so even if she and Echo were actual friends, at least Amanda would get an introduction, and maybe things would go from there.  She wasn’t a gold digger, but pretty plus money equalled happiness, and same-sex marriage was legal, so who knew what would happen?  The only downside was _everything_ Amanda had heard about Diana’s personality (and career).  Those were big red flags that would need to be considered carefully, before making a move.

So when she rung the doorbell and Echo answered, Amanda was relieved.  But the girl looked a little off.  Her left cheek was red and looked like it had been flattened by a hundred bricks.  There were large bags under her eyes, her posture was sloppy, and her hair – well, her hair was on par with usual.

“What’s with your face?” Amanda said.  “Well, never mind.  Constanze needs a favour.”

“Sure,” Echo said.  It was just like her to say yes before asking what it was first.  But this was good – it was confirmation that Echo would be willing to take care of those left behind.

“Her robot was trying to get the key Chariot dropped in the sewer, but went missing.”

“Oh.  She was trying to get the key?”  Echo paused in confusion.  “Wait, you mean Chariot and Croix are still cuffed together?”

“Yeah.”

“But why?  Can’t they just go to a locksmith?”

“Chariot wouldn’t explain, but she said no sawing the cuffs off.  I tried picking them, but it’s a pretty advanced set, considering they’re only BDSM cuffs.”

Echo’s eyes widened (they’d been half closed, before).  “BDSM?  Does that mean – are they...?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“But it’s been over a day!  What about sleeping, and – and the bathroom – and _everything_?”

“I didn’t ask, and, quite frankly, I don’t want to know.”  But Amanda wouldn’t condemn Echo’s choice of questions, because as long as Echo was focused elsewhere, she wouldn’t be asking details about how the robot went missing.  “Anyways, can you find the key and get the robot?”

Echo smiled and nodded.  “Sure I can.  Getting dirty doesn’t bother me.  We can’t all be perfect, respectable people.”

Amanda returned the smile, unsure of whether it was supposed to be a subtle jab or not.  But Echo did not seem on top of her game today, and it wouldn’t have been fair to go on the offensive.  In a way, both of them had lost something great.  With Shiny Chariot and Team Polaris’ leader turning out to be the same person, arguing was pointless, now.  Both of their heroines were the same, and it was a lose-lose situation.  Just like Amanda’s role model was dead, so was Akko’s idol.

So maybe it would be better to butter her up for the job.

“I heard the story from Sucy,” Amanda said.  “You ate six hundred billion e-coins.  I’ve got to say, I’m a little impressed, Echo.  It’s not just a lot of bravado you have – you’ve got some big balls.”

 

* * *

 

Her business wasn’t yet done.  Once home, Amanda swept the kitchen, vacuumed the hallways, and took out the garbage.  She wanted to make it easier for Jasminka, once she was gone.  After a walk through the house, she dropped by her room.  From her desk – which was actually Jasminka’s old writing desk – Amanda fished out the key.  It was on a thick rope keychain, attached to a metal tag which reminded her of a dog tag.  Oddly appropriate, given the context.  She pocketed it and left the room.  At the door, she ran into Jasminka, looking not-so-thoughtfully into her bag of chips.

“Hungry?” Jasminka asked, looking up.

Amanda took one of the proffered chips.  Barbecue flavoured.  She would miss their barbecues – even Echo’s obnoxious bragging about being the best cook (which wasn’t true) (well, it might have been) (but Amanda would never admit it).  Those afternoons spent out in the sun with her friends, even if she hadn’t been stealing, were still _something_.  An inexplicable, unforgettable something.

“Are you busy next Friday?” Jasminka said.

“No.”

“Splendid.”  Jasminka ate another chip, closed the bag up, and licked her fingers.  “I have a meeting with Samhain Studio – they’re interested in my newest script.  Can you give me a ride?”

“Finally getting into the big league?”  Amanda smiled.  It was going to happen sooner or later, but she was happy for her friend.  “Sure, I’ll give you a ride.”

And then she returned to her desk, feeling a little exhausted as the key slipped out of her fingers and back into the drawer.

It would have to be done later, she supposed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suicide is bad.  Do not kill yourself.


	22. Down Low

If Akko was so disgusting, she didn’t see any problem with crawling around in a sewer.

Amanda had selected the manhole and one of Constanze’s Stanbots had removed the cover, and now Akko was standing next to it, feeling a little more apprehensive than when she had first agreed.  Lotte was present and Sucy (unsurprisingly) wasn’t.  Also present were the two surviving members of Team Polaris, Chariot and Croix.  They were stuck side by side, Chariot smiling and Croix with a stone cold expression masking however she felt.

With everyone there to see her off, it felt like she was going on some great adventure to save the world.  Rather than, say, finding a robot covered in sludge and the key to some BDSM handcuffs.

“You got your knife on you?” Amanda said.

Akko tapped her belt.  “Yeah.”

“Metal detector in your backpack?”

Akko didn’t need to check for that – she could feel its weight.  “Wait a second,” she said.  “Why do I need a knife?  It’s not like there’s going to be anything dangerous down there.”

Amanda shrugged nonchalantly.  “No, but if the Stanbot got stuck, you might need to cut it free.”

“Right.”  Akko nodded.  “I’m going, then.”

Slowly, because falling would not be a good start to this sewer adventure, she began descending the ladder.

“Akko, please remember,” Chariot said.  “Whatever you see down there, it’s not as great as it seems.  Up here, that’s where your life is.”

And  _ wow _ , just what kind of person did Chariot think she was?  In her book – and hopefully everyone else’s – sewers were not great.

But still, Akko smiled.  “I’ll remember that,” she said, descending into the darkness.

Even before she’d reached the bottom of the ladder, Amanda had covered the manhole and everything became as dark as a starless night.  There was a subtle droning sound – the under-workings of the city and its traffic – and the occasional drop of water – from where, she didn’t know – and the stale air seemed to congregate on her, until she knew there would be one long shower in her near future.

At the bottom, her flashlight clicked on to reveal a long tunnel, extending in both directions, with a waterway running down the middle.

Like the canals of Venice, she thought with a grim smile.  Jumping at this opportunity had been to forget about what had happened that morning.  Even underneath the world, her face still heated up as she remembered her nude pictures.  And then, because her brain wanted to punish her, she imagined how fun it would be, to go on a gondola ride through Venice with Diana.

After a moment spent referencing the map that had been drawn up for her, and daydreaming of a very different day, she started moving forward.  Unfortunately, there was still a bit of distance to travel.  The key had been lost beneath the coffee shop, but the closest human-accessible entrance to the sewer had been several blocks away.

Like any good sewer, there were the inexplicable groaning sounds, like zombies, that echoed through the tunnels, reaching her as ominous whispers.  Her boots weren’t hers, but borrowed from Constanze (who had at least five pairs) and though their size was right, they still didn’t fit nicely.  What if a tidal wave of sewage appeared?  Would she be able to outrun it, in these boots?  What about being attacked by a plague of rats?  Or tripping, falling, hitting her head, losing consciousness, rolling into the sewage, and drowning?

She didn’t want to die without at least seeing Diana one last time.

At each intersection, she paused, flashed her light down the potential routes, checked her map, doubled checked her map, triple checked her map – and  _ who the duck made this map _ ?  This intersection wasn’t supposed to exist.

From behind her, a high pitched squeak.  She pulled out her pocket knife and spun around.  Nothing but a rat scampering off into the distance.  Nothing but an erratic heartbeat.  Akko crossed the intersection over a bridge that consisted of a flat, three-inch wide piece of metal.  It swayed under her weight, and she felt slightly offended at that.  She was not heavy.  Skinny.  In fact, too skinny.  Sometimes, a good fire was all she needed and she completely forgot about eating.

Akko had been thirteen when she’d been diagnosed with pyromania.  At the time, she hadn’t understood anything more than the fact that ‘pyromania’ was a pretty cool word.  But then all the adults had reacted negatively, and someone tried to explain what it was (bad) and what it wasn’t (good).  This had given Akko an unprecedented clarity over herself and her obsession.  But then all the adults had told her it was treatable, and, like Diana had said, it was not hopeless.  There was even a chance she would simply grow out of it.

_ Not hopeless? _ Akko had asked herself.  The fact that something in her brain was  broken wasn’t hopeless?  That, she hadn’t understood.  Her parents had pretended like the problem didn’t exist.  If they had been a little older, a little wiser, or even the tiniest bit more responsible, Akko was sure things would have ended up differently.  But if that meant not working at a coffee shop and not meeting Diana, then maybe –  _ no _ .  Stop thinking about Diana.  Think about her parents, and how cheap they were.  When things had gotten worse, the therapy too expensive, and Akko had fe lt hopeless, they had introduced medicine , and i t had done funny things to her head.

A curious rat approached her, and she stomped her foot down hard, the resounding boom making the animal dart away.  It would not be tasting human meat today.  Not on Akko’s watch.  No matter how delicious she was.

“ _ Don’t take it,” the witch said as she cut open a frog.  She cackled upon seeing its gooey insides.  “I have something else for you, better than their medication.” _

The  medicine was bad – worse than the alternative, Akko had thought – so she had listened.

“ _ But that’s fine,” the large-glasses girl said.  “Embrace what makes you unique.  Not everyone has fires or faeries.” _

Being unique was good – better than being fireless, Akko had thought – so she had listened.

Akko turned left at the next intersection, and the path led downhill, until she was wading through several inches of water.  The boots were waterproof, thankfully.  

But maybe Diana had been right.  Her environment had been bad.  Sucy and Lotte had negatively influenced her and that was why she’d never gotten better.

Darn wandering thoughts.  She reined them in and concluded that it was fate that had brought her here, and that she should just keep trudging on.

Sometime later, she arrived at the star on the map.  The place where Constanze’s robot had gone missing.  Shining her light around the area revealed nothing.  Akko should have asked more questions.  Missing?  What exactly did that mean?  Did it fall into the water?

She sighed to herself.  There was another mark on the map – a question mark, a few tunnels from where she stood.  Somehow, this addition had escaped her earlier attention.  It was suspicious – seriously, who had made this map? – but she set it as her new destination.

Thankfully, she was already growing adjusted to the smell of the sewer.  It was a combined sewer, so all the storm drains connected to it – which explained why there was a literal channel of water running down the middle of the tunnel – and this additional rainwater diluted the sewage.  The entire underground sewage system had been built during the Victorian era, so the brickwork was fancy and deliberate.  They had had weird priorities, back then.

It should have been upgraded since the nineteen hundreds, and all the yucky stuff  put  into their own pipes, but this was Rastavan, and nobody had done any construction in the neighbourhood for decades.  Other places around town had higher standards.

“ _ Over here.” _

Akko stopped.

No.  No, that was not her flashbacking to the first time she’d met a friend.  No friend sounded like  _ that _ .  The voice had come from one of the many intersecting tunnels – though Akko didn’t know which one – and as ghostly as it had sounded, it couldn’t have been her imagination conjuring it up.  Someone had spoken those words.  She was not alone, beneath the city.

“No thanks,” she muttered, redoubling her pace.

Find the robot, find the key, leave.  Three simple things.

Amanda had been so generous as to lend her a metal detector (the reason her backpack was so darned heavy), and had given her a gentle reminder that if the robot couldn’t find the key, she would have to.  At that point, Akko had again tried bringing up the subject of why the  _ fudge _ Chariot and Croix weren’t  resorting  to other means to free themselves, but this question had been steadfastly ignored by everyone present.

She checked her phone.  If some alien creature that could speak English was going to kill her and eat her remains, at least she’d want to be able to blame Amanda with her last breath (and maybe text an apology to Diana, if the time perm itted) .  There was a four bar connection and Akko sighed in relief.

That sigh ended abruptly when she found herself in a dead end.  In front of her – the fabled question mark she’d chased so earnestly – was a large, steel door.  It looked like one that would be installed  in a bank vault, and, as Akko approached, she heard deep clunking sounds, and then the door started to slide open.  Water rushed in through the entrance, but Akko didn’t let it sweep her in.  Instead, she took a few steps backwards.

If humanity had had a choice, Akko would  _ not _ have been the first they would have selected to meet a sentient alien species.  Not the first, not in the first billion.

Once the door was open wide enough, dim lighting revealed a figure stepping out.  Far back in the recesses of Akko’s mind, there remained the fact that it wasn’t polite to shine a light in someone’s eyes.  But that was far back, and everything else was far forward, so she ignored this kindness in favour of knowing her fate.  Akko pointed the light directly at the someone.

The someone was human.

An old woman, hardly five feet tall, with grey hair, a forehead wrinkled a thousand times over, and green-tinged skin clinging to bone.  She was hunched over, with a patchwork quilt wrapped around a frail body.

“Greetings, young one,” the woman said , slowly .  Her voice was gentle.  “Welcome to Arcturus.”

 


	23. Lunch Break

Diana had exploded.

It was unacceptable, unprecedented, and very confusing, but she hadn’t been able to help herself.  It was Akko’s fault.  Time and time again, Diana tried to walk away, and time and time again, she betrayed herself and her emotions.  Never in her life did she think she would willingly invite a pyromaniac into her house, but then again, never in her life did she think she would meet someone like Akko.

It was infuriating.

This time hadn’t even been all that bad – some (not-so) innocent fooling around with the camera, and a few inexpensive purchases online – but Diana had still exploded.  It seemed Akko was the only person capable of getting under her skin.

And then there was the ugly truth that Diana had tried so hard to ignore.  Petals and candles alone were suspect – her mind stitched together a scene of an apron-clad Akko in her bed, surrounded by dark red petals and the faint light of a hundred candles – but those weren’t the _only_ purchases that had arrived that morning.  There had also been a bottle of rose-scented bubble bath.  And that single item changed the entire meaning of Akko’s purchase.

Somehow, Diana knew that if she hadn’t insulted Akko, she would have come home to a hot bubble bath waiting for her after a long day’s work.  Because Akko had been trying.  That dinner had been trying, even if Akko’s mouth couldn’t be controlled.  Cutting the grass and cleaning the backyard had been trying, even if a fire pit had mysteriously popped up in the far corner of the yard.

It was frustratingly undeniable that Akko was trying.  Diana knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t help but hold Akko to some higher standard, as though Akko were actually a good person.

All morning at work, her thoughts kept returning to the words she’d used – disgusting, which Akko was far from – broken, which, if she was being honest, wasn’t _everyone_?  And Akko hadn’t even gotten mad.  She’d taken the words like an abject puppy, and it was only after Diana had stormed out that she realized what she’d done.

She knew she needed to apologize.

On her lunch break, Diana had returned home.  There was no Akko, and upon discovering this, she kicked the nearest wall and swore at herself.  Her fault.  All her fault.

Panicking more than she would have liked, she called Akko’s cell.  There was no answer.  Not on the first try, the second try, or the third or fourth.  She returned to the car with a cold, uncomfortable feeling inside.  An emptiness, like that which had lingered after her mother’s death, was now starting to return.

This was all her fault.  She was worse than Sucy and Lotte – Diana had offered Akko a home, and then had verbally abused her within it.  Home was supposed to be safe, and Akko had no longer felt safe, so she’d left.

The car brought her to Rastavan.  The coffee shop was burnt to the ground, and she stopped to peek inside the back room, but there was no Akko.  Where would she have gone?  Diana knew little about Akko, and even less of the Echo of Rastavan.

It would be an extended lunch break, then, as she drove the streets.  A shot in the dark, maybe, but she was desperate.

In the end, Diana found someone else.  Driving past a junkyard, she heard gunshots, and normally her instincts would have been to move away from the gunfire, but Akko had some questionable friends, so in this case she fought her instincts, climbed out of the vehicle, and ventured into the scrap metal graveyard.

The place was weird and maze-like, with stacks of metal twice as high as she was tall.  It was vehicles, mostly, but also discarded fridges and other household appliances.  Sprinkled throughout the metal were chunks of concrete and rebar sticking out every which way like a pile of pretzel sticks.

Without knowing the layout of the junkyard, it took her a few wrong turns before she found the smallish clearing in the middle.  There, countless red shell casings covered the ground.  In the centre was a depression in the dirt.  It had small pieces of garbage, as well as chunks of charcoal.  The fire pit, Diana presumed.

It felt like she was trespassing on private property.  The shell casings were so obviously Lotte, the fire pit Akko, and around the edges of the clearing were bottles – some broken, some full of unknown liquids – that couldn’t have belonged to anyone but Sucy.

The source of gunfire was there, too.  Orange hair.  Lotte.  The one who had originally gave her Akko’s cellphone number.

It was better than Sucy, who hadn’t forgiven the earlier manipulation on Diana’s part, but it wasn’t better by much.  The fact remained that Diana had tried to destroy _all_ of Akko’s friendships.

It would be awkward, but necessary.  Diana took a deep breath.  Lotte turned around.  In her hands was a rifle, but not just any.  It was massive – a sniper rifle of some sort – yet the girl didn’t seem the least bit troubled by its size and weight.

“Lotte,” Diana began.

But then she fell silent.  She was not like Akko.  When it came to conversation, common sense dictated being prepared.  So she took a few seconds to organize her thoughts.  Start with the truth, get the desired information, and then leave as quickly as possible.

“Yes?” Lotte prompted.

“I made a mistake.  I said some unpleasant things to Akko.”

“And?”

“And I need to apologize.”

“And?”

“And say something more,” Diana said.  “What do I do?”

Finally, Lotte set her gun down on the hood of a nearby car.  “Apologize.”

“In what manner?  How should I go about doing it?”

“Saying ‘I’m sorry’ might work.”

Not hostile, but not insightful, either.  Diana relaxed.  “I feel like even your faeries would be more helpful than you, right now.”

“Trust me, they wouldn’t.”  Lotte paused to fish out a pair of leather gloves, and slipped them on.  “It’s obvious Akko likes you.  Unless you did something _really_ bad, any old apology will work.”

Obvious?  Akko had a crude sense of humour, and had been overt about finding Diana attractive, but there was a large difference between that and outright liking somebody.  In fact, if Diana was going to be honest with herself, maybe she’d been slightly, somewhat attracted to Akko – why else would she have kept returning to that coffee shop and ordering that terrible coffee?  There had been much better means of investigating the safe.  But beyond that, all Diana could see was an unpredictable pyromaniac who never thought before she acted, and there was no way a relationship with someone like that was smart.

And on the flip side, it was probably true that Akko saw her as a rich, spoiled girl, condescending and prone to insulting those whom she thought her lesser.  But still, even if it was a little bit, Diana wanted to fix the impression she’d left.

Lotte handed her a bullet cartridge, and she absentmindedly rolled it around in hand.  A few seconds later, Lotte took it back and handed her a different one.  It was cold metal, and she wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be some sort of therapy for weirdos, but it seemed to help calm her.  (Did that mean she was a weirdo?  Probably.  All Akko’s fault.)

“I don’t want to make ‘any old apology’,” Diana said.  “You know her best.  I’m thinking a gift of some sort.  What does she like?”

Lotte shrugged.  “Bring her to a fireworks show?  She likes fireworks.”

Fireworks?  Unlikely.

But that didn’t stop Diana from imagining it.  As night descended, they would find a hill away from the crowds, and Akko would lay out a blanket.  They would sit together on it, looking up into the cloudless night sky, waiting for the first set of explosions.  Akko would reach out, finding her hand and entwining their fingers.  They would sit in silence for a moment, Diana appreciating Akko’s warmth, and then she would say it out loud, and Akko would laugh.  Their eyes would meet, and Akko would lean in, and Diana would close her eyes, and as the first of the fireworks rose into the sky, their lips would-

“She’s a simpleton,” Diana said.

“Maybe.”

“She’s insane.”

“Can’t be both.”

Diana groaned.  “Fine.  I don’t know what she is, but she causes me trouble.”

“Isn’t that what friends do?” Lotte said.

As far as Diana knew, the answer to that was _no_.  Barbara and Hannah had never been the least bit troublesome.  They were good company, unlike some people.

“I think that only applies to _your_ friends,” Diana said.

“Oh,” Lotte said, with a goofy grin.  “I like it this way, though.  Non-troublesome friends sound boring.”

That was only one of the many differences between them, Diana thought.  But then again, Diana could put up with one troublesome friend, if that friend happened to be Akko.

“Where is she?” Diana said.

“You don’t want to know.”  Lotte exchanged the bullet cartridge in her hand for what was probably the tenth time.  “Amanda’s got her in a mess.”

“Amanda.  Who is that?” Diana demanded.

“A friend.”

The reason behind the vague answer was all too obvious, and Diana turned away.  “A friend,” she said to herself.  “I’ve already lost her, haven’t I?  She’s not coming back.”

“But to lose someone means you had them before.  That’s awfully possessive of you.  Do you like Akko?”

“I do not.”  Diana paused.  That was a kneejerk reaction.  She lowered her voice.  “But I don’t dislike her, either.  I suppose I am unsure.”

“Maybe you should decide, before you apologize to her.”

How did Diana feel?

She liked how funny Akko was – because her own friends weren’t – and she liked how social and energetic Akko was – because she wasn’t – and she liked how, despite being Zapped and abandoned, Akko was still responsible (somewhat) and independent.

One similarity between the two of them was that their parents were no longer around.  But Diana had always had money and the Network.  Akko had neither of these, and yet she’d found success.  Even if it had been a coffee shop that might have been a front for distributing questionable consumables, it had been success, carved out of a life Diana couldn’t even imagine living.

It was because of this that Diana thought Akko was the stronger person.  And, if she was being honest, that explained some of her attraction to Akko.

But strong did not imply good.  (And, if she was being honest, that explained some of her attraction to Akko.)

There was more, too.  The few times they spent on the couch in Akko’s room, talking, had been so carefree.  Sure, Akko was unpredictable, but Diana had never felt in danger around the girl.  In fact, she felt abnormally safe, like she was invincible, and that had led to her being unusually brave the first time she’d met Croix.

 _“Make me,”_ she had said, after Croix had ordered her out.  That could have ended very badly, but instead it had ended up with Akko saving her.

Akko saving her…

And she thought she could save Akko.  How narcissistic.

“I will keep that in mind,” Diana said.  “You… you don’t seem bothered by the prospect of Akko and me.”

“No.  From what I’ve heard, she could do worse than you.  But, if it would help, I could promise to shoot your kneecaps if you hurt her.”

 

* * *

 

Diana left shortly after that.  Smalltalk was not easy in such circumstances and with such people.  As she returned to the car, she found that there was something small bugging her.  It had felt like she’d told a lie near the end of the conversation.

 _Unsure_?  If she had tallied up the evidence, then it sure didn’t look unsure.

The most damning part of it all had been the first day she’d met Akko.  Even after she’d realized Akko was watching in the mirror, she had continued to change, as though she were putting on a private show – just how easy was she? – and it had been embarrassing and exciting and the idea _should_ have been vetoed by her common sense, but somehow it hadn’t been.

No.   _Correction_.  That was _not_ the most damning part.

The most damning part was that Diana had thrown herself at Akko and kissed her like a horny teenager.  There was no excuse for such behaviour.  She couldn’t say it was because Akko’s reckless, impulsive behaviour had taken root in her.  She couldn’t say it was because she needed to save her house.  She couldn’t, because she knew otherwise.  It had been there, maybe from the first day.  An idea that had taken root in her mind – a _what if?_ – and this thought had always been there, waiting patiently; a possibility, a curiosity, a temptation.

A temptation which she had finally acted on, with the kiss.

A temptation which had settled much confusion.

But a temptation which had hadn’t ceded.

Denying it any longer was futile.  She had kissed Akko, and _she had liked it_.


	24. Deep Hole

Akko probably should have run.

Actually, no ‘probably’ was needed.  She should have run.  Old ladies did not live in sewers, whereas aliens disguised as old ladies?  That possibility was growing more likely by the second.  But curiosity overwhelmed the instinct for survival, and she took a step forward.  The grandma motioned inside, and Akko obeyed, as though brainwashed.

Past the door, the tunnel continued, but it was the end of the Victorian era engineering.  The tunnel’s width shrunk, and the walls became cracked concrete.  They walked, side by side, their feet splashing in the trickle of water that had slipped inside.  In minutes, the tunnel began to slope downwards.  It seemed to go on for ages, and at some point Akko became aware that they were going to a depth far below any sewage system.

The old woman didn’t speak, but was instead focused on her steps.  The deeper they went, the more Akko was confused.  And was it her imagination, or was the diameter of the tunnel shrinking even further?  After a while, Akko flicked off her flashlight.  Somewhere along the way, light fixtures affixed to the ceiling had started.  In this lighting, Akko discovered grandma’s skin wasn’t actually green.  It had been the sewer’s atmosphere, and maybe some of her imagination, that had tricked her earlier.

Deeper down, to the centre of the earth, they were going.  The grandma was now humming an unfamiliar tune – chaotic and grating to the ear.  She had a walking stick in hand.  Akko hadn’t seen where she’d retrieved it from, but it might have been a pocket dimension.

“Where are we going?” Akko said.

Her voice echoed down the tunnel.  Grandma’s humming grew louder.

“Where are we going?” Akko repeated.  “I – I don’t get it.  What is this place?”

“You don’t need to get it,” Grandma said.  “Just trust yourself and keep believing in your heart.”

“Uh...”

Grandma chuckled.

And then she resumed humming.

And then Akko saw the end.  A change in lighting, an opening of the tunnel.  She picked up speed, leaving Grandma behind.

Her world expanded.  She stumbled and fell to her knees.  Eyes wide, eyes blinking, eyes uncomprehending.  Was she still underground, or had she been transported to another world?

It was an empty space, massive and dark and bright, like the sky at night.  There was no indication of a ceiling, or walls to encompass the area.  Larger than a football stadium.  Scale-defying, headache-inducing, wilder-than-wild.  She stared at the lights in the distance, and even knowing it wasn’t possible, her brain interpreted them as stars, as though she’d been dropped into the expanse of outer space, far away from anything and everything.

But it wasn’t all flat.  There were buildings, too.  They were metal cubes attached in every which way, like pieces of Lego.  Some were stacked on each other, creating odd shapes, while others were standing on their own – sometimes even suspended in the air by thick chains that reached into the darkness above.

“No fudging way,” Akko whispered.

Grandma had caught up with her, and stopped beside her.  “This is Arcturus.  It is what I, and many others, call home.  Young one, what is your name?”

“Akko.”

“ _Ah_.”  Grandma nodded.  “As I had suspected.  We have long awaited your arrival.”

“Uh – what?”  Akko rose to her feet; the concrete had been cold on her knees.  “My arrival?”

“You are the chosen one,” Grandma said.  “You will-”

An inhabitant of Arcturus was running towards them, waving his hands wildly.  (He was human, to Akko’s relief.)

“Hold on, hold on, hold on,” he shouted.  His skin was gleaming and pale, and he looked frog-like, with large lips and a wide face.

Once the man had arrived, Grandma rose her walking stick and started swinging it violently at him, and he kept his distance.

“Great Woodward,” Frogman said, bowing.  “Your presence is needed in the hospital.”

Woodward lowered her weapon and nodded.  “I shall see to it.  Please show the young one our city.  Her name is Abbo, and she is the chosen one.  Treat her well.”

Frogman and Abbo(?), together, watched Woodward leave.  It took a few good minutes for her to walk out of sight, behind one of the structures.  Even after she was gone, there was a moment where nothing happened – Frogman tense and unmoving, as though afraid the walking stick was still a threat.

And then he exhaled.  “Sorry,” he said.  “She’s insane.”

Akko took this in stride.  After all, it had to be either alien or insane, and if she could pick, the one with less ancient alien anal probing sounded like a good choice.  Besides, she had an impulse control disorder, which sometimes made her do insane things.  Her and Woodward weren’t all that different.

“Then the hospital doesn’t need her?” Akko said.

“No.  Not really.  She’ll entertain the kids for a bit, before returning to the door.”

“The door?”

“Woodward is the Guardian of the Door.  Sorry if she scared you in any way.  Aside from her walking stick, she’s a very gentle woman.”

“Guardian of the Door.  You mean that giant metal door back there?”

“Yes.  She spends all day at the door, opening and closing it for citizens of Arcturus.  Not that we have many people coming and going.  But she likes spending time alone, so it works out well for all of us.”

“Okay.  But I’m not a citizen.  Why did she open it for me?”

“No, but you’re still one of us, Abbo.”

Akko debated not correcting it.  She already had _Akko_ , _Atsuko_ , and _Echo_ .  Maybe collecting names could be a new hobby of hers.  But if she was going to start such a hobby, she would at least want _good_ names.  Abbo was not what Akko would consider a good name.

She sighed.  “Actually, my name is Akko.”

“Should have known better,” Frogman said, shaking his head.  “Woodward sees things as she wants.  In any case, pleasure to meet you, Akko.  My name is Altair.”

They shook hands, but then Altair gave her a funny look.

“Hold on...  Akko?  Now where have I heard that name before?”  He snapped his fingers.  “ _Fafnir!_  You’re related to Fafnir!  His – his niece!”

“Eh?  How did you know?”

“I’ll explain, but first, I’d like to answer your earlier question in full.  Is it true you’re Zapped?”

“Eh?  How did you know?”  And then, in the interest of not sounding like a broken tape, she tried again.  “What?  How could you know that?”

“Look around you,” Altair said, motioning around and upwards at all the structures and the scant few people (humans) walking around.  “Nobody here will ever connect to the Network again.”

“You mean... you’re all Zapped?”

“Yes.  But we do not call ourselves Zapped.  Rather, it is those who live in the capital that we consider different.  To us, they are the Chipped.  You are not Chipped, and that is why Woodward opened the door for you – because whether you live here or not, you will always be welcome here.  That, in essence, is Arcturus.”

A community of Zapped people, living underground away from the government?

Akko’s mouth dropped open.  That simply couldn’t have been possible.  There were so many problems – was it even possible to live without any sunlight?

“There are other places like Arcturus – some not even below ground – but Arcturus is special in many regards,” Altair explained.  “Not least of which is our population.  In the last census, it numbered twenty-six thousand.  Our location is closest to the centre of the capital, being directly underneath it, and with our main access tunnels originating in Rastavan, we have easy entrance and exit.”

“How can a place like this even exist?” Akko said.  “It – it’s impossible.”

“I don’t know what more you would want in way of evidence.  You see it with your own eyes, and yet you call it impossible?”

“I can’t even begin to understand how.  In fact, I’m more convinced you’re all aliens and this is just a hologram.”

“The one-minute history lesson, then, while we walk,” Altair said.  They left the tunnel entrance and entered the city proper.  “Starting in the mid-sixties, the Swiss began building fallout shelters in fear of a nuclear war.  Their population is only a fraction of ours, but they were successful in building enough underground bunkers for their entire population.  Around the time they started, our country, too, thought it a good idea.  But for us, the project was kept under wraps, and it was abandoned in ninety-one when the Soviet Union dissolved and the Cold War ended.  The area you see here was the start of one of many underground cities.

“They wanted to make enough underground space for fifty-five million people?” Akko said.  “How could something like this be kept secret?”

“It’s not a secret.”  Altair led them past a building covered in colourful chalk drawings.  “Since the project’s abandonment, there have been at least fifteen articles published on the existence of the underground shelter network.  But, considering our country’s other investments and experiments during the Cold War, this has largely escaped the public’s attention.  What exists under our feet is rarely interesting, and it works in our favour, in this case.

“As for your Uncle Fafnir,” Altair went on, “I know him because he took on a great responsibility.  He was, in many respects, our protector.  By turning Rastavan into what it is now, he has kept us hidden from prying eyes and supported us with resources, allowing us to prosper.”

Chariot’s words from the other day took on a whole new meaning.  He hadn’t just been protecting Rastavan.  This also explained why he needed Akko’s assistance.  It hadn’t simply been to include her in the family’s crime empire – it had been because he’d been so busy with the logistics of supporting an underground city, and he didn’t have time to micromanage Rastavan.

Altair continued.  “On the surface, the Rastavan Restoration Project is about demolishing old buildings, but there’s more to this plan.  Deep down, the government intends on destroying Arcturus.  They’re coming to end us.”

There was a pun in there somewhere, and as Altair continued talking, Akko frantically searched for it.

“Though Arcturus exists outside the sights of the average person, we still have great effect on the capital, and by extension, the nation.  The woodlands protest last year was organized by us, as well as many other resistance efforts.  The loss of Arcturus wouldn’t just be a calamity to us who live here.  We fight for the whole nation.”

Altair took her around a part of the city – it really was giant, and Akko wondered how on earth she’d never heard about it.  And then she smiled to herself, because it didn’t exist _on_ earth, and that was two workable puns she’d found in the last minute.  It might have been a personal record, if she’d kept track of that kind of stuff.

“This is Wagandea,” Altair said, stepping up to the rim of a hole in the ground.

It was five meters in diameter, and it was a hole.  There wasn’t really any other way of describing it.  It went deep, probably, and Akko did not want to step anywhere near it.  Altair, on the other hand, showed no fear.  He was so close the toes of his shoes went over the edge.

“I am the Keeper of Wagandea,” he said, motioning over the hole.  And then he cleared his throat.  “Basically, if someone wants to jump, they have to go through me first.  But you don’t look like a jumper, so come take a closer look if you want.”

Akko took a step closer, dropping into a crouch.  “How deep is it?” she said, trying to peer down into its depth.

“Very.  I’ve led expeditions that try to reach bottom, but our rope always runs out.  Tried dropping stones and lights down, but we never hear them hit bottom.  Wagandea is actually so old nobody knows its true origins, but I’ve spent much of my life researching it.  The preeminent theory is that it was dug thousands of years ago, when the first settlement was built over this area.  They believed in heaven above and hell below, and dug a hole to hell as an express route for their criminals.”

_You’re a broken, disgusting excuse for a human being._

Akko took another step away from the hole.  Bad thoughts like that and Wagandea didn’t mix well.

“Don’t worry, though,” he said, probably taking note of her aversion.  “It’s only what they believed, and it’s not like believing can turn things into reality.  I’m sure it ends eventually.”

In the distance, they saw Woodward approaching.

“Woodward may be insane,” Altair said, “but please be nice to her.  She wasn’t always like this.  It’s Wagandea’s fault.”

“How so?”

“Once a century, Wagandea exudes a noxious red gas.  If you touch it, you go insane.  Woodward was very attractive when she was younger.  Leader of our people, smart, selfless.  But she inhaled the gas, while trying to help others escape it, and since then, it seems she’s aged at twice the normal speed, and it’s like she’s only half here, with us now.  It was a terrible loss for our people.”

Woodward finally arrived, and looked at the two of them suspiciously.  She, too, kept her distance from the hole.  With two skinny fingers, she motioned Altair closer.

“Down, boy,” she ordered.

Altair bent down.  Woodward slapped his face – there had been a lot of slapping going on recently – and he winced before straightening out.  So much for her being gentle without her walking stick.

“You know better than to lie to me, boy.”  She turned to Akko and then the pit.  “Ah, young one.  This is Wagandea.  It leads to another dimension.  A portal out of this realm, and into the fantastical.  Unfortunately, it is also a one-way journey.”

Behind Woodward, Altair shrugged helplessly, a crooked smile on his face.

“A portal?” Akko said politely.

“You would be wise not to take the journey until you’re ready.  Also, if you do decide to take the journey, do _not_ think of a giant cockatrice any time after you jump, or you won’t make it to the other end.”

“A giant-”

“Forget I said anything,” Woodward interrupted.

Akko was never, ever, _ever_ , under any circumstances, going to jump into Wagandea.  Absolutely not.  Even if eternal torment only awaited her if she stayed (eternal torment being something akin to never seeing Diana again).

“But you did not come here for Wagandea,” Altair said.  “If it’s true you’ve never heard of Arcturus, then something else must have brought you here.”

“I’m looking for something,” Akko said, still somehow thinking of a giant cockatrice.  “My friend’s robot went missing in the sewers around here.”

“Not the reason I was hoping, but I can help nonetheless.  Nicholas led the expedition today.  If it was found by our people, then he’ll have it.  I’ll bring you to him.”

Akko still didn’t understand the layout of Arcturus.  Around every corner there seemed to be some new line of sight kilometres long with specks of light everywhere and cube-shaped buildings that made Akko really want to play a 3D version of Tetris (that had to exist, right?).  And the maze kept twisting and turning – she was hopelessly lost, despite usually having a good sense of direction – until finally they came to a T-shaped Tetris piece.  Altair knocked on the door, and a short man with a bushy moustache and cracked glasses answered.

 

* * *

 

Akko had successfully traded the metal detector for the Stanbot.  To her relief, the Stanbot (a disturbingly dog-like thing), already had the key.  That meant she was done her mission and just needed to return alive.  With no metal detector, there was room in her backpack for the robot, and she stuffed it in as best she could.

Altair needed to return to Wagandea, but he expressed his desire to talk again, soon.  With Fafnir dead, Arcturus wouldn’t run into any immediate problems, but it did create tension for the future.

Once he’d left, Woodward was her guide to the exit.

They didn’t make it to the exit.  Not for a few good hours.

But that was Akko’s own fault, rather than the aliens deciding to reveal their true forms and starting their questionable research on her.  The first thing that had distracted Akko was the farm.  Hydroponics, Woodward had explained.  With artificial lighting, and built vertically (tall as a skyscraper), they produced enough vegetables to sustain the city indefinitely.  This had distracted Akko only for a half hour, as she was given a tour of the place by one of the workers.

The real time loss had followed shortly after that, when they had come across an open-air fire between buildings.  Akko stopped there, because it was _different_.  There was something special about these flames, far underground and far from comprehension.  It was a light in the night sky, and it was something she had never known existed.  It was a warm secret, calling her name.

Beside her, Woodward spoke, “The flames are dying.  Add more fuel to it.”  

Her words were true.  Beside the fire, a stack of logs.

(Wood, underground.  How odd a sight.)

Next to the stack of logs, an axe.  Akko took the axe, split some wood, and fed it to the fire.  It was hard work, and she was sweating by the time she was done, but fire was her reward.  It grew larger, happier, more beautiful.

(But not quite as beautiful as Diana.)

A community fire, Woodward explained.  They were commonplace throughout Arcturus, as a means to promote community.  People would keep the fires running twenty-four seven, and would cook soups, meats, and other meals over it.  Since there was no day and no night in Arcturus, everyone operated on different work and sleep schedules, so someone was always around using the fire.

Woodward showed no interest in leaving immediately, so Akko settled in next to the fire with the fire iron, occasionally stirring the coals or repositioning a new piece of wood.  Tending a fire was Akko’s favourite pastime.

And like that, she forgot and was forgotten in time.  Someone might have brought her food, at some point, because she recalled chewing, but mostly what she remembered were the dancing flames and the way they seemed to whisper sweet nothings to her.

 

* * *

 

Hours later, content, she and Woodward left the fire.

Walking back up the tunnel to the exit was a lot of exercise.  It was a little embarrassing to be breathing hard when Woodward, walking beside her, seemed to float up the incline.  Her walking stick was nowhere in sight, but she’d probably never actually relied on it for walking anyways.  Akko decided then and there that she would start working out regularly.

Like the flames had made a connection with her, she grew more reluctant with every step away from the heart of Arcturus.  A question had since sprung into her mind: _What if she stayed?_

She had no home above ground.  Not since she’d lost Diana’s trust.  And without Diana, living the rest of her life underground seemed like a valid alternative.  Living in Arcturus wouldn’t mean she’d have to abandon her plans.  She could still come and go as she wanted.  She could still avenge Big F.  She could still protect Rastavan.  Nothing would be lost by going underground; Arcturus was an amazing place.  They even used coins for their money.  There were no paper bills or cryptocurrencies to take away the coppery smell, cold touch, and heavy weight.

But this is what Chariot had warned her against.   _Up here, that’s where your life is._  Was Chariot right?  What did it matter?  Akko didn’t know.

Finally, the path levelled out and the door came into sight.  Woodward turned to face her.

“Young one,” she said.  “What is your name?”

“Eh?”  And it was then that Akko realized Woodward had more issues than insanity.  “My name is Akko.”

“Akko?  Akko... that is the name of the Chosen One, is it not?  Young one, do not forget us.  Your destiny is entwined with ours.  You shall awaken the Seven Words of Arcturus, and with the power of the Grand Triskellion, the sun will once again be ours.  The day you save the world shall become known as the Day of Light, and the world shall rejoice and chant your name, ‘Appo, Appo, Appo!’”

That sounded like a large responsibility, and secretly, Akko was happy she didn’t have to worry about it.

Asking even one question about this whole Chosen business would probably have been a bad idea, so Akko just nodded.  “Oh.  Okay,” she said.

Woodward reached out to the wall and pulled a switch down.  The door began to open, and, as before, a rush of water came through.  Walking up the stream, Akko left Arcturus behind.

“Claiomh Solais,” Woodward shouted as the door began to shut again.  “To awaken the Words, you must find the staff which once belonged to the Southern Child, Croix!”

And then the door sealed shut, the water stopped flowing, and Akko kept staring.

 _Croix_?  Did she hear the crazy grandma alright?

 _Please be a coincidence_ , Akko thought, despite knowing how uncommon such a name was.

With the Stanbot in her backpack weighing her down, and keys to the BDSM cuffs in her front left pocket, she turned on her flashlight and began to walk.

Four steps later, she stopped to take out her map, and her flashlight flickered and died. 


	25. Dog Bot

This was a fine time to remember she had never gotten an explanation for the ghostly voice she’d heard earlier.  Woodward had spoken slow and gently, so it couldn’t have been her, and it didn’t seem like there were many other people hanging around the sewers.  Aliens, on the other hand...

As if on cue, a high pitched  giggle  echoed down the tunnel.  To Akko, it sounded demonic, and she instinctively dropped the map in favour of her knife.  She also took a few steps back towards the steel door.  If it had opened again, she would have leapt inside and been content to never leave again.  But the door did not move, and Akko did not leap.

After a few seconds, it was quiet again, but for her beating heart.

She knelt down, swung her backpack off, and blindly rummaged in her pockets.  Unfortunately, it was the twenty-first century, so she didn’t need to light a flame.  She had her cellphone instead.  This light revealed the fate of her map.  It had fallen into the stream.  She retrieved it, but the ink had washed away.  It was no good anymore.

Staying in the sewers overnight was not acceptable , so she resorted to the only other item she had .  Out of her backpack, she retrieved Constanze’s Stanbot, and set it on the cement.  It only took a little bit of fooling around to find a red switch in the off position, and she flicked it and the robot powered up.  It swivelled around a bit, taking in its surroundings, and then it looked up at Akko, who was a little troubled over how dog-like its mannerisms were.  How advanced was Constanze’s AI?  It certainly couldn’t have been sentient, but-

“ _ Woof _ .   _ Woof _ .  Hello, Echo.”

“Oh.  Hi.”

“What a fine night it is, tonight.   _ Woof _ .”

Akko looked around at the not-night-sky.  “Actually, we’re in the sewer,” she said, hoping it wouldn’t be a wasted effort.

“ _ Woof _ .  I knew that.  I was testing you.”  The Stanbot looked around again.  Its flashlight (eyes) turned on, lighting their surroundings much better than Akko’s phone had been capable of doing.  “Be careful not to step in poop.   _ Woof _ .”

“Um.  Okay.  I’ll be very careful.  So, uh, do you happen to know how to get out of here?”

“ _ Woof _ .  The initial conditions of Operation Keys And Cuffs contains GPS coordinates of the sewer entrance.  I can return there.”

“Please do,” Akko said.

And without needing  to say more , the Stanbot led the way.

“What’s your name?” Akko said a few minutes later.

“Dognius the Second.”

“There’s a first?”

“My father.   _ Woof _ .  He was dismantled and his parts were used to make me.”

“Morbid.”

“ _ Woof _ .  Morbid.  Adjective.  Grisly, gruesome.  Example: she has a morbid fascination with fires.   _ Woof _ .”

Okay.  A little judgemental, but that was fine.  She had a feeling she just touched upon an unrefined feature, and it would have been remiss of her not to fully explore it.

“Robot.”

“ _ Woof _ .  Robot.  Noun.  A machine that performs complicated and often repetitive tasks.  Example: I am a robot.   _ Woof _ .”

Well, that was an easy one, and it didn’t spurn on any existential crises.  Impressive...  But how smart was Dognius the Second really?  Akko thought for a minute.

“Coup-d’état,” she finally said.

“ _ Woof _ .  Internal server error.  SQL state twenty-two-oh-one.  Character not in repertoire.  Error.  Invalid byte sequence for encoding.   _ Woof _ .”

Dognius the Second stopped.  He turned around and looked up at her for several long seconds.  For a robot-animal, he was really judgemental.

“Sorry?” Akko said.

“ _ Woof _ .”  The dog turned around and resumed walking, Akko close on its heels.  “Sorry.  Adjective.  Feeling sorrow, regret, or penitence.  Example: you are sorry for breaking me.   _ Woof _ .”

Well, that turned too meta too fast.  Akko vowed to stop testing the feature.  From now on,  she would only speak  complete sentences to Dognius the Second.

“How far  left to go ?” she asked.

“ One point four four kilometres.   _ Woof _ .”

Despite having already left Arcturus, the feeling of reluctance still hadn’t departed.  What was she going to do?   Could she still try to apologize to Diana ?  Did Akko deserve to be forgiven?  At the rate things were going, Diana would get hurt sticking around Akko any longer.  Arcturus seemed like a better choice with each passing minute.

A  short while later , Dognius the Second stopped.  It raised its back left leg – Akko hoped it wasn’t going to do what she thought it was going to do – just what had Constanze built, exactly? – and then a trickle of fluid poured out of the robot and Akko groaned.  Ten seconds later, it lowered its leg and resumed walking.

Akko didn’t resume walking.  Again, it would be remiss of her not to check, right?   _ Right? _  For science.  Sucy would be proud.  She knelt down, bringing her nose as close as possible to the puddle.

“Please do not smell my pee.   _ Woof _ .”

“Okay,” Akko yelped, jumping up.

“ _ Woof _ .  Okay.  Adverb or adjective.  All right.  Example: It is  _ not _ okay to sniff someone’s pee.   _ Woof _ .”

Wasn’t this robot only supposed to find a key?  Someone needed to talk to Constanze about design techniques, because this was overboard.

But maybe overboard wasn’t all that bad, because a short while later, they found themselves at the exit.  Akko made a phone call, the manhole cover was removed, and she was free.  To her surprise, everyone (except the most important person) was there to greet her.   She  set Dognius the Second down – he couldn’t climb ladders, so she ’d had to carry him up –  _ seriously _ , Constanze? – and it bounded over to Constanze, leaping into her open arms.

“Welcome back,” Lotte said.  “I would hug you, but...”

“You stink,” Amanda offered.  “I can smell you from here.”

Sucy was there, too, unlike last time.  She wordlessly approached, holding a vial of liquid.  Once close enough, she popped the cork and poured it over Akko’s head.  It was warmish and it went straight to her scalp, rather than running down her hair.  There, it dissipated, or otherwise did something which Akko did not want to  think  about.

“Your hair may fall out,” Sucy said, “but at least you won’t smell as bad.”

“Thanks.”  Akko grinned.  “I’m surprised you’re here.  Wanted to welcome the heroine back after her arduous journey?”

“No,” Sucy said.  “I’ve welcomed enough heroin for my lifetime.  This is just a coincidence.  Constanze and I were picking up a part for the Shooting Star.”

“Oh.”  Akko noticed Chariot and Croix standing a little farther back.  They had been silent so far, but Chariot was watching expectantly.  Akko dug the key out of her pocket and held it up for everyone to see.  “ _ Ta-dah _ !  Mission accomplished.”

At the sight of the key, the two Team Polaris members rushed forward.  But by now, Akko had a pretty good idea of who had placed the question mark on the map.  She closed a fist around the key.

“Chariot,” she said.  “Did you know about Arcturus?”

Chariot nodded.

“And Croix?”

“Arcturus?” Croix said.  “Who is that?  The name doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Oh.”  Akko sighed in relief.  “So Woodward was one hundred percent insane.  Good.”

Croix’s eyes widened.  She backed up half a step, taki ng Chariot with her .  “ _ Woodward _ ?  You met Woodward?  Who the hell is Arcturus?  What did Woodward want?  What did he say?  What the hell happened down there?”

“Uh.”  Not even Fafnir had trusted her with the information.  And if Chariot didn’t tell Croix, then continuing in secrecy was the way to go.   “I probably shouldn’t say.”

“At least tell me about Woodward.  What was he like?  Old and senile?”

“She,” Akko said.  “And, yeah, sorta.”

Croix relaxed.  “I didn’t think that mystery would ever be solved.   It’s been years now, since  I’ve thought of the name .  Though I wonder how she picked me in the first place.”

“So it’s true, then?   Woodward  gave you a staff called Claiomh Solais?”

“She gave me a stick,” Croix said, crossing her arms.  Of course, this movement swung Chariot around to her other side, but Croix didn’t seem to care.  The dynamic between them had changed yet again, and it was incomprehensible.  “Four years ago, I started receiving letters from Woodward with no return address, claiming I was a witch destined to save the world.  I ignored them for months and then I finally got a stick in the mail.  I threw it out, of course, and that was the last I heard from Woodward.”

Somehow, Akko was offended.  She probably would have done the exact same thing, but it still rubbed her the wrong way.

“It made me paranoid,  to be honest,” Croix said.  “It was around the time we were upping our game, and I thought someone knew about my identity and was testing the waters.  But nothing ever came of it.  Now, if you don’t mind, the key.”

When it looked like Chariot was going to object, Akko paused and waited, but  Chariot made no sound.  Maybe she was afraid of a repeat performance (but at least the sewage entrance was only a few steps away).

Akko handed the key to Croix.

“Thank you, Akko,” Croix said.  “Chariot will be in touch.  Probably.”

Croix pulled away, taking Chariot with her like a dog on a leash.  Not once did they stop to unlock the cuffs.  Ominous.  The number of personality switches she’d seen from Croix made her wonder if the woman had a bipolar disorder. 

The two of them climbed into a car (the same one that had taken Akko away from South Leaf Penitentiary) and it drove off a moment later.

“Alright,” Amanda said, clapping her hands.  “Good job, Echo.  That about wraps that up.  I’m  _ not _ going to ask what happened down there-”

“Do  _ you  _ know about Arcturus?” Akko said.

“’course not.  I don’t know nothing ‘bout no lizard people.”  Amanda laughed.  “Hey, since we’re all here, let’s go get some grub.”

There were more questions to be asked, but Constanze shuffled forward.  She nodded to Akko – a thank-you, perhaps – and then poked Amanda and pointed to Sucy.

“Constanze and I have work to do on Shooting Star,” Sucy said.  “You can get us takeout.”

“Oh –  _ oh _ !”  Akko jumped a little.  “Are you finally adding flame decals?”

“Yes,” Sucy drawled.  “Bright red ones stretching from the hood to the trunk, and all over the sides.  Modding it to spit flames out of the exhaust, too.”

Even without the last bit added on, Akko knew it was a lie.  And  it wasn’t just because the words were dripping with sarcasm .  She had made the request at least a thousand times, since the day they had named the vehicle.

“Hungry?” Jasminka said, putting a consoling hand on her shoulder.  “You and Lotte can come over for dinner.”

“That’s a better idea,” Amanda said.  “It’s getting late.  You can take a shower at our place.  And, since I’m feeling super nice, you can invite that Diana chick for dinner, too.  And introduce me to her.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Akko muttered.  “We kinda sorta got into a fight...  Well, not so much a fight as me screwing up.”

“Oh.”  Amanda paused thoughtfully.  “Well, dinner’s still on the table.  And if you need a place to crash, I guess we might owe you.”

 


	26. Hate You

Again, back to Chariot’s house.  Again, the creepy garden gnome out front.  Again, they sat on the couch.

But things were different this time, and not only because they spent the past few days living an extremely salacious lifestyle.  Now, they had the key, and their closeness would come to an end.  Well, _soon_ it would.  There were other matters to attend to, first.  It was almost funny, how Chariot seemed to think she had some measure of control over the situation.  It may have been her house, but Croix was the one with the handcuff keys.

“Go ahead,” Chariot said, holding out her cuffed hand all businesslike.

Croix looked at the key between her fingers.  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“W-what?”

“I’d like to hear all about Arcturus, first.”

Chariot, even with hands as deft as hers, wasn’t quick enough.  She threw herself at the key, but it was telegraphed and Croix closed her fist around it.  The next couple minutes involved a very disgraceful sight as Chariot tried to pry open Croix’s fist.  It ended with profanity and a couple weak punches directed at Croix.

“It’s in the sewer?” Croix said once Chariot had quieted down.  “Something Echo found?”

“I’m not answering.”

“This doesn’t have to be painful.  Just one explanation, in return for your freedom.”

“I hate you.”

“Fine.”  Croix pocketed the key and grabbed the TV remote.  “I feel like watching some TV.  Let me know when you’re ready to answer.  In the meantime, these cuffs are staying on.”

“I don’t mind,” Chariot said.  She wasn’t apparently out of cards to play.  Leaning against Croix, Chariot snaked an arm around her waist.  “In fact, I think I like being stuck with you.”

Croix turned the TV on and rolled her eyes.  “I don’t mind, either.  But I’m not going to listen to your bathroom requests anymore.”

The hand quickly removed itself.  “I hate you.”

“Some kind of technology, is it?  Maybe water control systems for the city?  Fibre optic lines?  If it’s something we can use against the government, tell me.”

“I hate you.”

“If you really did, you wouldn’t let me do this,” Croix said.

She reached out and shamelessly groped Chariot’s chest.  Chariot reacted exactly as expected; a yelp of surprise, and absolutely zero resistance.

 

* * *

 

Once Chariot was panting and writhing under her touch, Croix stopped, sat up, and licked her lips.  It took a moment for the first complaint to come, and another moment for Chariot to sit up, realizing she wasn’t going to get what she wanted anytime soon.

“So,” Croix said.  “Tell me about Arcturus.”

“I hate you.”

Chariot’s lust was insatiable, and Croix made full use of this fact to learn everything.

“An entire city,” Croix said.  “I can’t believe Fafnir never told me.”

“You didn’t keep in touch with him.”

 _Or me_ , were the unspoken words.

“And I don’t regret it,” Croix said.  “Not really.  I needed the time.”

“And now?”

“Are you worried?”

“No,” Chariot said.

As much as Croix had tried to delay this, with excuses and lies, it was an eventuality.  How things would be between them once the cuffs were gone, Croix didn’t know.  She was afraid the gap between them would widen, like the handcuffs had granted them a degree of freedom, to act how they had once been, and with the shackles gone, their relationship would drown in uncharted territory.

Croix unlocked the cuffs.  They fell to the couch.  “There you go,” she said.  “Only because you’ve been a good girl.”

There was a moment where they both looked at their wrists.  Thank god for the padding, or their skin would have been much redder.  Chariot rose her arm up, and then to the sides, like she was doing yoga, and then she launched herself forward.  Croix wasn’t able to move in time, and they collided and Chariot wrapped her in a hug of death.

“God, I’ve wanted to do this forever,” Chariot said.

“What?” Croix choked out.

“An actual hug.  Not a half-assed one armed hug with the handcuffs getting in the way.  A real hug.  Now, hurry up and hug me back or – or you’ll regret it.”

“Who would’ve guessed,” Croix said, wrapping her arms around Chariot.  It _was_ nice to properly connect again.  A comfort not felt for four long years.  “You’re clingy even without handcuffs.”

“Kinky, too,” Chariot said.

Croix felt a hand grab her rear.  “Don’t think you can distract me from a whole fucking city under a city.”

“Wasn’t trying to,” Chariot said innocently.  “Why?  Were you distracted?”

Croix countered with the most serious voice she could muster.  “If Fafnir was protecting Arcturus, what now?  Did the government kill him because of it?”

Chariot broke the hug but still sat close enough to lean against Croix.  She was so obviously still in the mood, but that went without saying.  “If they wanted to kill him for it, they could have done so long ago.”

“Then why didn’t they?  Why leave Arcturus alone for so long?”

“It would be a mess,” Chariot said.  “There’s no way to remove every inhabitant of Arcturus without making the situation worse.  Now, it seems like they’ve decided to bite the bullet and get it done.”

“And we can’t do anything about it, because Echo destroyed the fucking private key.”

“Maybe it was for the best.  We want to save the nation, not destroy it.”

“You don’t think it can be saved through destruction?”

Chariot gave her a judgemental look.

Croix remembered the words she’d said to Akko.   _Join the dark side_.  Maybe there was another rational than the one she had offered, for this choice of words.  Maybe she was a little dark.  And maybe she needed Chariot around to remind her of it, from time to time.

“Okay, fine,” Croix said.  “Ignore the fact that civilization always rebuilds itself bigger and better than before.  Ignore that every major step forward involves small steps backwards.  We still need to do something.”

“Whatever happened to the ‘I’m done.  I just want to go home’?”

Croix shoved her.  “Can you blame me?  I was a little overwhelmed by your presence.”

“By my beauty?”

“Whatever makes you sleep better at night.”

“I would sleep better at night if we could do something about Rastavan, Arcturus, and the Social Percentage Plan,” Chariot said.  “I didn’t get a job with the government so I could curl over and die.”

“As much as I hate this new development, I agree.  Fafnir wasn’t just a teacher, to me.  If Arcturus was important to him, then it’s important to me.”

Chariot’s eyes widened.  “You two – you didn’t...?”

“Fuck, Chariot.  Get your mind out of the gutter.  He was a mentor and a friend.  I screwed him over by pressuring him to give up the private key, because I thought he had given up the good fight.  Instead, he was in the thick of it, and I never knew.  I feel that I owe him, even if his niece is a fucking idiot.”

“Akko is too young.  Don’t blame her.”

“ _Echo_ is a drug dealing, assistant crime lord with a keen sense for fire and absolutely nothing else.  Anyone with those creds is not ‘too young’.”

“She’s not any of that anymore,” Chariot said.  “She’s lost a lot more than us, in these past few weeks.”

“Why so eager to defend her?”

“The magnitude of the problem is outside of her comprehension.  You heard her.  She thinks trying hard enough can solve any anything.  Magic, she specifically said.”

“Magic,” Croix muttered.  “But why not?  You have inside access.  Do some of your magicky stuff and scare the government.”

“Scare the government?”  Chariot frowned.  “We... we could still do that.  We don’t have the private key, but they don’t know we don’t have it.”

“A bluff?”  Croix looked around the room.

She would have liked a laptop to start jotting down her ideas, but paper would work just as well.

 

* * *

 

“So, uh,” Chariot began.

Croix leaned back, sighing.

They were making progress in the plan, but it felt different than before.  Working together was difficult.  Their ideas were always clashing and compromise never really felt like it.  There was an imbalance, between their styles.

Because of this, a distraction was welcome.  The problem was, nothing good ever started with Chariot saying ‘so, uh’.  That was about as close as she could get to being embarrassed or ashamed.

Croix’s eyes narrowed.

“I was thinking,” Chariot said.  “In the interest of being completely honest...  Remember when I said I kept lots of things from back then?”

“If you looted my underwear drawer, I’d rather not hear of it.”

“It’s not that.”  Chariot sighed.  “I looted your garbage.”

“Should I be disgusted, offended, or confused?”

“You told Akko that you threw away Claiomh Solais.”

“The stick.”

“I took it.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” Croix said.  “It was _a stick_.”

“You could ask that question for lots of stuff I did when I was younger, and the answer is always the same.  It seemed like a good idea, at the time.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re being honest with me, but you don’t actually mean you kept it, do you?”

“In the wicker basket on top of the fridge.”

Croix rose and went to the kitchen.  “I’m snapping it.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“You brought this upon yourself.”

“How stupid would you feel if it really was a magic wand?”

“Magic doesn’t exist.”

“How do you know?”

“Right, silly me.  I’m a witch, the earth is flat, and don’t forget there’s aliens living on the far side of the moon.  Scary world we live in.”

“Don’t mock me.”

“Are these _sequins_?  Why does the stick have sequins glued to it?”

 

* * *

 

The following day, the garden gnome was gone.  That was the first thing Croix had done.  (The second was swear profusely over a stubbed toe.)  (The third was tackling a laughing Chariot to the ground.)  (The fourth risked getting arrested for public indecency.)

Chariot had to return to work, which involved helping the government and catching up on her last two ‘sick’ days.  It had soured the morning, because, try as she might, Croix couldn’t come to terms with Chariot’s career choice.  From stage magician to government goon.  The end result would hopefully be screwing over the government, but in the interim, Chariot would be _helping_ them.

But Croix bit her tongue and let Chariot leave, because there were other things to attend to, now that she was free.  For the first time in several days, Croix returned to her own place.  She dealt with the mail, made a few phone calls, and then checked her businesses in person.  After being away for only a few days, her people were already starting to slack off.

A few years ago, she had started an online store that only accepted m-coins, a derivative of the ubiquitous e-coin.  m-coin, short for mutecoin, was an untraceable cryptocurrency which was perfect for completely anonymized business.  Her store sold certain types of illegal alcohol (brewed far away from the capital by business partners and then shipped into the capital in semi-trucks emblazoned with logos of popular food and drink companies).

Even more profitable than alcohol, however, was computer hardware.  The government had recently clamped down on the distribution of technology.  They didn’t like it when other people could compute billions of floating point operations every second, because, logically, anyone who wanted to do this was a hacker.  Application specific circuit boards were illegal, and those weren’t something that could be made in any back-room, so Croix had to make contacts outside the country and get them shipped in.  It was much more complicated than the alcohol, but much more useful to her fellow citizens.

Guns and drugs were lucrative too, but had problems of their own.  They were even more dangerous to acquire and distribute, and some part of Croix’s conscience had disallowed it (without even needing a disapproving look from Chariot).  Not that alcoholism was any better than drug abuse, but she had to draw the line somewhere.

 

* * *

 

She and Chariot had decided living together was too reckless.  If the government caught wind of one of their employees living with a known ex-con, there would be some difficult explaining to do.  Another reason not to share the bed any more than necessary was the need to get to know each other again.  They had already covered the more intimate, but that didn’t change the fact that four years had passed.  There were bound to be other surprises, aside from not cooperating well when planning attacks against the government.

It seemed Chariot couldn’t get enough of her, however, because at noon Croix got a dinner invitation by way of text (with a sickening amount of old style ‘less than three’ heart emoticons – the only ones Chariot ever used).  When evening came around, Croix was crossing the gnome-less yard and knocking on the door.

Chariot greeted her with a smile.  “Hello, darling,” she said.  “Would you like dinner, a bath, or perhaps...?”

“Yeah,” Croix said without missing a beat.  “A bath sounds good.  I had a long day.  You wouldn’t believe the shit people do when they think their boss isn’t watching.”

“Hey.”  Chariot put her hands on her hips.  “That’s not the correct answer.”

“I thought I had a choice.  But I guess you did call me for supper, so food it is, then.”

“Wrong again,” Chariot said.

Her pout was really cute, so Croix didn’t mind being wrong.  She stepped inside, closed the door, and pushed Chariot against the wall before initiating a kiss.  “Am I right, now?”

 

* * *

 

Ten minutes later, they had managed to make it three steps down the hallway.  Clothes were shed and Croix was breathing hard, wondering if she would ever get a break.  

“Hold on,” Croix said, pulling away.  “What do I smell?”

Chariot sniffed.  “Arousal?”

“No.”

Chariot sniffed again.  “ _Oh_.”

It was a familiar, acrid smell.  “Is that dinner?” Croix said.

“No?”

The fire alarm, which went off three seconds later, begged to differ. 


	27. First Bite

Appearance wise, Amanda’s place was one of the nicer buildings in Rastavan (especially when compared to the toxic dump next door) .

But this wasn’t saying much.  It still had old plumbing, asbestos in the walls, and an inexplicable three am power outage every Wednesday.  It was only thanks to Amanda’s handiwork (and Constanze’s knowledge) that they were able to renovate the place with new carpet in the rooms, a linoleum floor in the kitchen, and a fresh coat of paint inside and out.

As Sucy had promised, she and Constanze disappeared into the garage as soon as they arrived, leaving the rest to figure out food.

The four  remaining girls settled in the kitchen.   C onversation didn’t flow as it normally did, but there were many possible explanations for that.  Even excluding  the Rastavan Redevelopment Plan , the Social Percentage Plan, and the  completion of the weirdest job Akko had ever been sent on, there was still  the fact that  Amanda’s house was owned by the government.  Any day now,  they would be getting an eviction notice in the mail.

“Burgers,” Akko said when her stomach growled.

“Go take a shower,” Amanda said.

“Steak!”

“Shower.”

“Hot dogs over the fire?”

Lotte and Jasminka joined Amanda, this time.  “ _ Shower _ .”

Outnumbered, Akko relented.

She was provided with a towel and shunted off upstairs, where it took two minutes for the water to get hot, and then she hopped in and it was too hot and she did a little dance until she found the tap’s sweet spot between surface-of-the-sun hot and lukewarm.  Lathering herself in soap, she ended up thinking about a taboo topic.  Diana.  It seemed to be impossible not to think of her every time Akko tried to relax.

What was Diana doing right now?  Was she at home, in her armchair, watching a romance drama?  Or was she ordering fast food, sitting alone in the kitchen?

Akko recalled reading about how smiling could make  you happy, even if it was a fake smile.  So she smiled, and with her most optimistic mindset, she replayed the morning in her head.  Diana had dropped a carton of eggs, which was bad, but Akko had cleaned it up, which was good.  Nude pictures of Akko showed up on the wall, which was bad, but Diana hadn’t been repulsed, which was good.  A package of rose petals and candles had arrived, which was bad, but she hadn’t actually started any fires, which was good.

The optimistic conclusion was that things were salvageable.  None of it had involved fire.  This was just a couple innocent mistakes.  The first thing Akko would do tomorrow morning was get some money from her bank to pay Diana for the eggs and online purchases.  And all the food she’d bought for supper, too.  It needed to be clear that Akko wasn’t using her for her money.

Akko ended  the shower a while later when the hot water ran out, and she found her clothes freshly laundered and folded up just inside the bathroom door.  There was only one person that thoughtful, and Akko silently thanked her.  By the time she’d made it back down to the kitchen, the meal had already been decided and  preparations were almost complete.  She walked around.  On the counter, there were bowls of food.  Grated cheese, diced tomatoes, cucumber chunks, and lettuce.  The meat of choice was ground beef.  Akko approved.

Lotte fetched the garage dwellers, and the six of them gathered around the ingredients.

“Eyes to your own, one special ingredient,” Amanda said.  “Draw your numbers.”

The hat was passed around, and everyone took a small slip of paper from it.  Akko got the number three.  She pocketed it.

“Now, make your tacos!”

And then the kitchen was bustling with activity.

The boring part was the meat, cheese, and vegetables.  Akko added those as quickly as possible, and while everyone else was busy, she began searching the cupboards.  It didn’t take long to find what she wanted.  The coffee can.  She opened it, took out three pinches of ground coffee beans, and added it to the taco.  Satisfied with the result – the ground beans camouflaged well with the beef – she placed her number three paper upside down on the middle of the tray on the table, and then set the taco down on top of it.

After that was done, she stepped out into the living room.  The TV was on, playing a marathon of a sitcom Akko wasn’t familiar with.  Sucy joined her shortly after, followed by Amanda and Jasminka.  Constanze was another minute, and Lotte still hadn ’t appeared after  three.  Lotte was a nice girl, but that fact didn’t relieve any tension in the room.   She had been in there awhile, and h er faeries weren’t nice.  Sucy, too, was a problem.  Playing with her was like playing Russian roulette.

Lotte peeked into the room.  “I’m done.  Sorry to keep you waiting.”

The five of them reentered the kitchen and took their seats.

“Rhubarb pie is dessert,” Amanda announced.  “Bonus is ice cream.  Pick your poison!”

The hat was passed around a second time (Akko mildly relieved she didn’t get number three), and there was some shuffling around as the taco numbers were checked and the food handed out.

Once everyone was ready, Amanda said, “Eat up!”

Meals at Amanda’s place had a pretty simple rule: you didn’t get dessert if you didn’t finish your supper.

Akko was hungry, so she didn’t watch everyone else.   Usually there were a few good reactions and shows of fear and confusion.  But as it was, the day in the sewer had tired her (in the physical sense; in the mental sense, the time  by the fire had rejuvenated her), and she took the biggest bite possible.  No matter how bad it was, there w ould be no denying Akko dessert.

First bite – safe.  No bleach or anything – she probably hadn’t gotten Sucy’s.  What was the ingredient?  Something subtle, maybe-

_ Fire _ .

_ Raw fire _ .

Akko’s eyes widened.

_ The flames of purgatory _ .  She’d made a critical mistake.   _ Molten lava _ .  Her mouth was burning a thousand degrees and she knew it was going to get worse and there was no escaping and what had she done to deserve this?  Her tongue brushed the surface of the sun and tried to recoil but had nowhere to go.  If it meant saving the rest of her mouth, she would have cut it off then and there, but alas, fate was a cruel mistress.  There was no escape.  She would burn alone.

Poetic justice, maybe, for all the people she had screwed over with fires?

No amount of drinking – water, milk,  _ even coffee  _ – would save her now.  How young and foolish she’d been, believing the entertaining reactions would be on the faces of her peers.  That was naivety that she would carry with her to the grave, and perhaps beyond.  If she had known this was in her future, then she would have thrown herself into Wagandea without a second thought.

But instead, she was on earth, and the taco was eating her, gnawing at her, poking her mouth all over with a branding iron, and cooking her insides over a fire.  It was relentless, and it was torture.  At first, her instinct was to keep chewing.  It would get better – it  _ had _ to get better – her body only had so many tears to shed and so much blood to send to her face – but as tears r an freely and the seconds passed , it became clear this was mo r e naivety on her part and she had to accept defeat.  Her forehead was sweating, her tongue was numb, and she was a defeated girl.  

Unless she wanted to chomp her tongue off – that would be quite a secret ingredient – she had to make an ugly display.

A  _ disgusting _ display, if she wanted to use Diana’s words.

So she spat it out onto her plate.

“Bawawa-” she began, not knowing when she’d risen from her chair.  “Aohahohababu.”

The rest of the table (how she wished she could be among them) were laughing.  Constanze’s laugh was silent, but she made sure to point as her whole body shook in amusement.  Dognius the Second peeked in through the garage door and made a  _ woofing _ sound that was disturbingly similar to laughter.  Even Sucy had a grin on her face, finding delight in Akko’s suffering, as per usual.  Amanda – darn her – had fallen out of her chair and was keeled over, clutching her stomach, and no matter how much Akko wished it was because of a heart attack from Sucy’s special ingredient, she knew it was unrestrained, explosive laughter.  She could hear it.  All of it.

At the sink, Akko turned the tap on and put her mouth under it.  The water wasn’t pouring fast enough – her tongue still burned, and if she didn’t know better, she’d have thought the water itself was hot – and then she put her whole head under, to wash away the tears, snot, and sweat.

Five minutes later, Akko returned to the table, collapsing into her chair.  Everyone was watching her, their tacos forgotten, and the pressure was too much.  She couldn’t think of a pun, even with such a good setup.

“I like  fire , but not that kind of  fire ,” she said, her mouth still tickling her.

“Special order from the States,” Amanda said – bragged, really.  “They breed these peppers to be as hot as possible.  I think that was worth every cent.”

“I hope you die in a fire,” Akko said, before realizing its implications.  “Well, not really.  Unless it’s a spicy fire.  And your throat can swell and block your airway and you won’t even get a dying breath or any last words.  And I’ll be there to laugh.  And I’ll sell your organs on the black market afterwards.  And – and... and-”

“Come on, Echo, we both know I’m not going out in such an undignified way,” Amanda grinned, returning to her taco.

Akko was disappointed she wouldn’t be getting dessert, but that didn’t mean she would stay hungry.  She made herself another taco – no secret ingredient – and began eating it.  Still, her mouth felt raw, so it was a slow process.   I n a few years, she might feel human again.

“Salt,” Jasminka said.  Her plate was empty.

The reaction was almost immediate.  Lotte bounced to her feet.  “How?” she said.  “I only put thirty-one grains in it!”

“Well, that was luck,” Amanda said.  “The only person at the table who would have got it.  Her taste-buds can sense anything.”

Jasminka nodded.  “It was delicious.  Thank you, Lotte.”

Lotte sat back down – poking at her half-eaten taco.  “You’re welcome, I suppose.  I knew I should have put in only twenty-one grains.  Those pesky faeries.”

“Do you know what’s in yours?” Jasminka asked.

“Yes,” Lotte said, turning to Constanze.  “Oil.”

Constanze offered a single nod, accompanied by a thumbs up, and then – a moment for the history books – she opened her mouth.  “Coffee.”

“That was me,” Akko said.

Three quick successes in a row.  Things were winding down.  It seemed Constanze and Jasminka would get the full desert of pie and ice cream, and Lotte, too, if she finished her taco.  Only Amanda and Sucy were left.  They were taking their time, as the conversation started bouncing around topics such as how they would defend Rastavan, what the hell was up with the three am Wednesday power outages, and haha Akko your face is still red.

Akko continued munching on her taco, content not to contribute to the conversation as much as usual.  What would Diana have put in as a mystery ingredient? Akko wondered.  It would be something fancy.  Maybe a herb of some sort?  Mint leaves?  There was something very refined about that.  They would probably be homegrown mint leaves, from the garden Diana tended to every day.

Nurtured and loved and – what the heck, Akko?  Jealous of a plant?

She shook her head and pushed Diana out of her thoughts.

Sucy’s plate was empty now, and she nodded to herself.  “Crushed cheese-flavoured tortilla chips.”

It was a suspiciously precise guess, but Jasminka nodded all the same.  “Correct!  Are you still hungry?  I can make you another.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Sucy said.  “I think I would have  rathered Constanze’s.”

As offensive as it was, Jasminka was probably about to say she could make Sucy an oil taco, but a loud groan from across the table silenced her.

“Man, this sucks,” Amanda said.  “That means I got Sucy.  Am I going to fall violently ill soon?  Because I have no clue what she put in it.”

“You give up?” Akko said.  It was a forced smile she put on her face, but she needed to taunt Amanda in some way.

“Nuh-uh.  Give me a hint.”

“Sorry, can’t,” Sucy said.

“Quit being a cheapskate.”  Amanda banged a fist on the table.  “You probably put in some hydrochloric-carbon-sodium-something-or-other-and-calcium mixture in it.”

Sucy shrugged.  “Maybe.  Who knows?”

“Maybe?” Amanda  said .

“If I could give you a hint, rest assured, I wouldn’t, but I  _ can’t _ give you a hint.  Not quite sure what I put in it.”

“ _ You don’t know? _ ”

“I found something in my lab coat, but it was unlabelled.”

“Unlabelled?” Amanda shouted.  “What kind of scientist are you?”

That question ended up being treated much more seriously than it should have, and the ensuing argument continued throughout the rest of dinner, as those who were still hungry made more tacos and ate them in silence.  When Jasminka went to make herself another tortilla chip infused taco, she offered to make Akko one, too.  Akko accepted, and it was pretty good, but that might have been a given.  Crushed chips tasted good with almost everything.

By the time the pie came  around , Lotte had finished her taco.  Akko was the only one who didn’t get a slice – rotten luck, in her opinion.

And, though it was only a minor consolation, Amanda failed the bonus and never got ice cream to go with her slice of pie. 

 


	28. Run Twice

Akko woke up in the spare room.

It was actually Constanze’s room, but  Constanze lived in the garage, so it was unused aside from a scattering of engineering books on the floor.  The air was cold, and with the warm blankets covering her, she didn’t want to get up, but images of Arcturus, from yesterday, raced through her mind and energized her.  There was lots to do, and sitting around moping wasn’t her style.

After a quick stop by the bathroom, she was ready to tackle the day.  In the living room, Amanda was standing a foot from the TV, staring at some generic sitcom show.  She was mumbling to herself, and, in retrospect, Akko might have actually been  _ really  _ lucky last night.

“Echo, Echo,” Amanda said.  “Have you seen this?”

She was rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, her nose coming precariously close to the screen.  Her eyes were bloodshot and she had a twisted, tortured smile on her face.

“I – uh – have not,” Akko said.  “Are you okay?”

“I couldn’t sleep last night.  I couldn’t sleep not at all not one blink not for even a second not when there’s TV to watch.”  She waved at the screen as a laugh track played.  “Hear that?  Laugh track eighty-nine.  The last time they played that was in season two episode four!”

Akko backed out of the room, unsure if there was anything she could do to help Amanda.  In the kitchen, she informed Sucy, who should have felt some sort of obligation to undo what she’d done the other night, but Sucy continued eating her cereal, offering only a knowing nod.

Sacrifices, in the name of research.

The world was at the fingertips of a crazy scientist, and one day they would all pay the price for not stopping her here and now.  But that was something for the future, and Akko didn’t like thinking so far ahead. So she poured herself a bowl of cereal.

Shortly after brunch, she went for a run.  Yes, Akko went for a run.  It surprised her as much as it did Lotte, but it was all Woodward’s fault.  The run didn’t go far, because both her legs and heart were protesting this sudden torture, but she made it around the block and, on her way back, she stopped by the junkyard.

Running in the junkyard was dangerous, because of the high probability of tripping and impaling herself on rebar.  Even the most minor of scratches would be problematic, since she would need to go through questionable and dangerous channels (Sucy) to get a tetanus shot.  This convenient excuse gave her a chance to walk and catch her breath.

Within a minute of digging, she had accessed and withdrew a couple hundred dollars from her bank.  That would be for Diana.   _ Diana _ .  Akko remembered when they’d met in the park.  Diana had been out for a run – something she did every morning – and she’d been in short shorts and Akko really wished she had gotten a picture of Diana then.

Upon her return from the self-inflicted torture, it seemed Amanda had recovered from whatever had been in the previous night’s taco, and she insisted she could drive perfectly fine, so they took the Shooting Star  for a trip to the coffee shop.  Amanda could not drive perfectly fine.  She could not drive fine.  She could not drive.  Akko forced her to pull over halfway down the block, and then she took to the driver’s seat.  Unfortunately, she did not fare much better than Amanda.  The Shooting Star had many more dials and knobs than a regular vehicle.  Still, they made it to the coffee shop without crashing.

It was a burnt husk.  It didn’t feel so good, seeing the aftermath.   _ Unease _ .   L ike visiting the grave of a loved one.

But after a few seconds, the unease gr e w stronger.  Unexpected agony tore at her, and she was about to start the truck up and leave, but Amanda put a stop to  this cowardice.  She jumped out of the truck and whistled.

“You really dealt a number to the place,” she said.  “Where’s everyone going to get their shitty coffee now?”

“Your house,” Akko mumbled, taking a moment to control her breathing before hopping out of the truck.

They stepped into the shop.  The glass on the ground wasn’t visible any longer.  It was now covered in ash.  Chunks of burnt wood were scattered about, and it still smelled of fire.  At least it had burned completely.  A failed fire would have burn worse.  It would have been disrespectful.

The back door – a large piece of metal – had fallen over.  The walls around it had burnt down, and there were only a few large structural support beams sticking out of the ground.  Her boxes were all cinder, her laptop and old cellphone fried, and her pi book nowhere to be found.  The safe in the corner of the room was undamaged.  It was, as advertised, fireproof.  Akko opened it and retrieved the contents – lots of documents and the single photo of Team Polaris, back in the day.  With Amanda’s help, she loaded them into the  truck .

On the drive back, Amanda was quiet, so Akko talked.  She started talking about the Social Percentage Plan, and this eventually bled over into a Team Polaris discussion.  Amanda was able to offer a large amount of insight into Team Polaris, from what she’d read online over the years.

And then, in quieter voices, they recounted their memories of Big F, and it might have gotten sentimental but neither of the girls would admit to it and there was no evidence of such a thing . It was almost as if they were friends.  But that moment was short-lived, after someone mentioned nepotism.

Once back at the house, Jasminka lent  Akko her room and desk, and Constanze lent her a laptop .  With these resources, Akko set up a workstation.  She’d told Chariot she would solve everything with magic, so now she just needed to figure out what that entailed.

The papers from Big F’s safe revealed a fuller story, if not the complete story.  He had been supporting Arcturus for years with shipments of food and other supplies.  There were a few large warehouses in Rastavan that acted as massive elevators to lower supplies into the underground city, and with a bit more digging, Akko found information on the shipments.  None of the contracts needed to be renewed any time soon, so it wasn’t an immediate problem.

One paper in the mass made her burst out into laughter.  Fire insurance for the coffee shop.  Big F trusted her to manage his funds, but apparently that trust didn’t extend far.  And who was this brave insurance company?  Rastavan should have been an automatic disqualification for anything with the word ‘insurance’ in it.  Maybe it was just Big F’s sense of humour.  She put it aside and resumed her work.

There were still a lot of unexplained things.  Big F’s trust in her hadn’t been as high as she’d presumed.  She hadn’t been aware of the tens of thousands of dollars he’d been sending internationally, every month.  Some of them went to American, Canadian, and Japanese medical research foundations – probably fronts – and some to a bank account which she couldn’t dig up any more information on.  At first, it was hard to believe he’d been involved in Arcturus, but now it was looking like things extended beyond the country, with international contacts.

One thing she had hoped to find was an explanation of how Big F had gotten started in the first place.  He had been a teacher for years, and suddenly retired to Rastavan, but that didn’t explain how he came into contact with Arcturus, or how he had the capital to start funding them.  Teachers did not make good money.

After she had exhausted papers relating to him, she started looking at government data Big F had acquired.  Her goal was to figure out potential weaknesses they had, if any.

By the time she had finished identifying and classifying all the papers, as well as drafting out some plans – none consisting of magic – to protect Rastavan and Arcturus, it was dinner time.  Instead of tacos – neither her nor Amanda were eager on the idea – Akko thought they could head to the junkyard and fire up the barbecue.  Steak sounded pretty good.

Amanda agreed (like they were friends, the nerve), but before they could announce the plan, Lotte entered the kitchen.

“Akko,” she said.  “There’s someone at the door for you.”

“Eh?  Who?”

“Just go,” Lotte said dismissively.

So Akko went.  A phone call earlier in the day, from Chariot, had warned that Altair would be in touch.  It seemed everyone was drawing up plans, and they would all meet soon.  It would be a secret meeting of leaders, and Akko really wanted to start thinking up a faction name and symbol (the triskelion was pretty sick, and hadn’t Woodward said something about it?) .  B ut  that would have been too immature,  and  she had been accused of being just that, far too many times.

T he person at the door was not Chariot, Croix, Wire, or even Altair.

It was Diana.  And, maybe because so much time had passed, she looked even more beautiful than ever before.  Immediately, Akko felt a little sick.  She wanted desperately to go back in time, and redo her very first meeting with Diana.  She would do it all differently.  Her words, her actions, her fires.  If only she had the chance.  If only it was possible.

“Akko,” Diana  said .

But it wasn’t possible.  She’d brought this situation upon herself, so now she would do her utmost best to fix it.

Akko turned and ran into the house.

She could hear Diana shout her name, but she didn’t look back or slow down.  And then, to her surprise, Diana shouted, “Lotte, stop her!”

Lotte appeared at the bottom of the stairs, blocking off her path.  She had a dish towel in hand and a slightly confused expression on her face as Akko continued charging, like an angry bull.

“Hold on, Akko,” Lotte said, holding out the towel  as though she were a matador.  “You need to talk to her.  It’ll do you both a lot of good, I promise.”

“IknowIjustneedtogetsomethingrealquick.”

And then  Akko ducked her head and dove under Lotte’s outstretched arms and through the towel.  She was up the stairs in record time.  Before Lotte could even react, she’d found what she needed and was barrelling back down again.  Past Lotte, past the kitchen, and to the door.  Too much momentum to stop on the spot, she slammed into the door frame with a groan.

“Akko?” Diana said tentatively.

Akko  bowed her head and offered the money with both her hands.

“Here,”  she said.  She stopped to  catch her breath.  Too much running in one day.  “For – for the eggs, and the stuff I bought online, and the potatoes, and cheese, and lettuce, and  – and the tomatoes, and-”

“Stop.”

Akko stopped.

“Look up at me.”

Akko looked up at her.

But despite these commands, Diana did not look mad.  She looked tired, maybe, but not angry, and her eyes flitted away from Akko’s intense stare.

“Put your money away, please,” Diana  said .

Akko looked at her money, wondered if she should force the issue, and then decided not to.  She put it away and, finding her hands empty, fiddled with her thumbs.

“I’m here,” Diana said, “because I want to apologize.  I ’ve done some terrible things.   I’ve lied to you, hit you, verbally abused you, and have, at all times, treated you unfairly.  I would like to say I’m a better person than that, but the truth is that actions speak louder than words.  And yet still, I would like you to listen to me for a moment, if that is not too much to ask.

Again, Diana was waiting for an actual response.  It wasn’t a rhetorical question, even if it should have been.

“Okay,” Akko said.

Diana  momentarily looked past Akko before remaking eye contact.   “When I met you, I made the mistake of applying the same expectations to you that I had developed for workplace friends and old acquaintances from high school.  It troubled me, even after seeing that Rastavan was a different place that ought to have required a more open mindset .  And, l ike a glitch in the paperwork, I set about fixing it.

“ In short, I had a desire to change you.  This was the second critical mistake I made, and, in hindsight, it is foolish and obviously wrong.  You – you’re  _ you _ , and if you let someone change you, it would be dishonest to yourself and those around you.  As ashamed as I am for manipulating your friends and applying unwanted pressure on you, I am equally glad that you stood your ground, because I realize now that I like you for who you are, and-”

“You  _ like _ me?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Diana responded without pause.  “I simply want to be your friend – to repair what I have broken.  I recognize my actions were very unbecoming, and in the future I shall strive towards being a better person.  So please,” Diana said, her voice weakening, “please forgive me.”

Akko didn’t know what to think, but she was pretty sure she’d just been given permission  _ not _ to think.  Not thinking meant relying on emotions, and her current top three feelings were happy, happy, and happy, so she decided to share the happiness.  She stepped outside and embraced Diana.

“Of course I forgive you,” Akko whispered.

It took her a second to realize this was maybe too bold.  Diana started to inhale, but stopped just as quickly and froze at the contact.

The  second second was  Akko deciding  _ fudge _ it, she was going all in.  With this decision, she tightened the embrace.  They were the perfect heights and it was comfortable and Akko could only hope Diana felt the same way because otherwise this would be added to the already long list of mistakes.  And if it was going to be a mistake, then, Akko wondered, maybe she should never let go.  Their kiss had been unexpected, undeserved, and unlikely to ever occur again, and if the hug was going to be the same, then she would need to make the best of it.  Shortly after this thought, she felt a hand come to rest on her back and her hesitation melted away and if she hadn’t already been squeezing Diana with all her energy, she would have done so then.

The third second was  _ holy ship _ , she was hugging Diana.  The girl she’d been infatuated with since they had first met.  The girl who had kissed her with surprising passion when Akko had been on the brink of insanity.  The girl who lived alone, in the richest part of town, and took depressing pictures of cats on streets that still impressed Akko even though she was a dog person.  The girl whose high profile job made her well respected and envied by everyone around her.  The only girl on earth Akko wanted to hug.

The  fourth and all proceeding seconds w ere spent basking in how amazing Diana’s hair felt.   Akko brought a hand up and ran her fingers through it.  With as weird a life as  she had had, it wasn’t surprising she’d never  touched  silk before, but she was pretty sure this  was how it felt.  Seriously, even after Akko had burned  her hair , it was still perfect.  Who was Diana’s barber?  Probably some old dude who charged a hundred dollars per cut.  And wow, was she supposed to be surprised or not that Diana’s hair smelled like mint?

Mint leaves?  Secret ingredient in tacos?  What did Diana’s hair taste like?

Diana cleared her throat, as though she could hear Akko’s thoughts.

Akko jumped back like she’d been electrocuted.  “Um, sorry,” she said. 

Diana’s lips twitched, and for a moment, it felt like Akko was successful in sharing her happiness.  She grinned and had to stop herself from doing anything else stupid.

“It’s fine,” Diana said.  “Just a little unexpected.”

“And, uh,” Akko continued, “I don’t know if I should bring this up because reminding you might ruin the moment, but I’m sorry for everything, too.  The stuff I bought online, and the – the  _ thing  _ with the pictures, and me never thinking before I speak or act, kinda like the hug just now-”

“It should be obvious I’ve already forgiven you,” Diana said.  “After all, that’s who you are.”

A moment passed where Akko visualized the picture of her naked in a red apron.  That ’s who she was?  She was conflicted, and could only  hope she was the only one thinking about it, in that moment.

Diana checked her phone.  “Then,” she said, turning towards her car out on the street.  “If it’s not too much to ask more of you, would you come with me?  I would like to bring you somewhere.”

“Eh?  Now?  Where?  It’s supper time.”

“Yes, I am aware of that.”

 


	29. Date Night

The car pulled over on a street downtown , and they stepped out .

Akko was confused and not getting any answers as to where they were going, but she didn’t hesitate .   Her confusion soon gave way to excitement.  There was a certain energy in the atmosphere she couldn’t ever remember experiencing before.  People and vehicles were everywhere, and they blended into the crowd as though it were perfectly normal – which it might have been, for Diana.

The sheer quantity of people was nearly overwhelming, and nobody gave them even a second glance.  It was a lot like her visit to the supermarket.  She was a little saddened by the realization that this wasn’t special.  There wasn’t some kind of event going on, or any national holiday, or anything of the sort.  This was simply an afternoon downtown.  The average life of a citizen.  The life she had missed out on.

Though she wasn’t much of a people watcher, it didn’t stop her from checking everyone and everything out.  Lots of people walked in groups, talking amongst each other and window shopping.  Those who were alone either had their cellphones pressed to their ears, or had their heads down, earphones in, and were moving with a destination in mind.

Fashion was an odd thing.  A drunk Amanda had once tried to explain it, after Akko had claimed it was only for the rich to worry about their wardrobe.  It hadn’t made any sense then, and now it made a little  _ less  _ sense.  It was warm out, but a startlingly large number of women were wearing scarves, as though they had a statement to make.  Akko wondered if, in the world of fashion, there was currently an all - out war being waged.  A war  she would never know of, despite it happening in front of  her eyes.

And then, philosophical Akko compared that to the war on freedom and privacy, which  she was finding herself in the midst of .  This hurt her mood a little, and she decided to forget about it for the evening.

After five minutes of walking, Akko’s confusion grew (albeit, not for scarf related reasons).  They could have parked much closer to their destination, wherever it was , and saved themselves much walking time .

But she was glad they didn’t.   This was the first time she’d been in this part of the city.

Even when she’d been young, her family didn’t often wander far from their neighbourhood.  Her mother had worked for a multi-level marketing company, selling healthcare products, and brought in a negligible salary.  Her father had worked at a gas station, and shortly before things went downhill for the family, he switched to part - time and started attending university, in hopes of getting a better paying job.  Akko didn’t know if he had ever  earned his degree .  In fact, she wasn’t too sure what he looked like.  What colour were his eyes?  Was his hair grey?  Did he have a moustache?

She couldn’t remember.

Was he still alive?

She didn’t know.

One of the things she could remember clearly, though, was when he used to bring her skating.  With a pair of twenty-dollar used skates, he would take her out into the countryside to a frozen lake and they would skate the day away.  Then, every Christmas  E ve, they went to an outdoor rink in the middle of a nearby city (the capital  was too expensive) , and there was music, hot chocolate, and bright Christmas lights everywhere.  Partaking in those festivities were some of her best memories.

Maybe she would try to take Diana ice skating.  It would be the first time since Akko’s father had left.

Part of her hoped he had completed university in Japan and left her mother, who’d said, on multiple occasions, it was because of Akko that they couldn’t get better jobs.  Babies were expensive and time-consuming.  As true as it was, Akko was pretty sure that wasn’t something a parent was supposed to say – even if they didn’t make enough money to do much other than live from day to day.

“Please try to keep pace,” Diana said.  “We  wouldn’t want to get separated.   And don’t look so paranoid.  Nobody is going to mug us.  This is the heart of the capital, and you’re going to draw attention if you keep acting like that.”

“Sorry,” Akko muttered.

Taken out of her daydreams, she sped up to match Diana’s pace.

She wanted to reach out and take Diana’s hand, because the warm evening was so cozy and the streets so lively.  Downtown was unfamiliar to her, but the warm lights, Victorian architecture, and flower baskets hanging from every lamppost were so beautiful.  And placing Diana in the middle of that made it even better.

Akko resumed her people watching, this time focusing on keeping up.   Some people were out walking their dogs, and some couples seemed to be out on dates – though none of the women were as beautiful as Diana – and there was a constant drone of chatter which fell to the background, alongside the sounds of traffic.

If  Akko could time it right, maybe she could catch Diana ’s hand when Diana wasn’t paying attention, and then it could work.  She could even say it was so they didn’t get separated.  Excuse or not, it was logical and Diana liked logical.

They slowed as they passed a restaurant’s outdoor patio.  The place was fancy as fudge, with glass tables covered by large umbrellas.  There were lit torches on the wall – actual fire, in public, and it made Akko squirm with excitement – and waiters mov ed about with a practised air.  Almost every table was occupied.

“Here,” Diana said, as Akko walked past the entrance.

Akko stopped and looked up.  She had to take a step back to read the sign properly.  Each letter was gold and taller than herself, and it spelled out  _ Azure Dragon Restaurant _ .

“Wuh?” Akko said.

“This is part of my apology to you.  Dinner.  Considering I ruined our last meal together.”

Most modern restaurants were very much self - serve.  Customers grabbed a tablet at the entrance, chose their own table, browsed the menu digitally, and then placed their orders without even needing to open their mouths.  The restaurant Diana had led her into, however, was a genuine restaurant.  It had waiters, elaborate chandeliers, and paintings on the wall, and that about completed Akko’s checklist for fancy restaurants.

Diana spoke a few words to the  attendant at the entrance – including the word “reservation”, at which point Akko realized this had been planned well in advance – of course it had been, it was Diana – and then they were led a winding path through the room.  It was a crowded restaurant; most tables had patrons already, eating and talking without a care in the world, and it  made Akko ill at ease.  Putting  her with so many people in such a high - class area was just a disaster in the making.  It wasn’t as bad as it would have been with Lotte or Sucy, but it was still  _ bad _ .

As though Diana could sense her discomfort, she said, “Try not to embarrass us too badly.”

“But a little bit is okay?” Akko said.

“Just a little bit.”

Diana smiled gently, and it did wonders for Akko.

They ascended a wide staircase at the back of the building, and one mistake became obvious: the bottom floor had  _ not _ been high - class.  It had been medium class.  Casual.  Up here, conversations took place in whispers, children were absent, and ambient classical music floated through the room.  The men were in suits, the women in dresses, and Akko and Diana stuck out like sore thumbs.  It occurred to Akko that Diana could have dressed up nicely, but had decided not to.  Probably so Akko wouldn’t feel so out of place (though she would have loved to see Diana in a dress).

After being led to a small table in the corner of the room, the waiter left them with menus.

“Order whatever you want,” Diana said.

Akko looked around.

The wall next to their table had a large painting of a white rabbit in snow.  The detail was astonishing – looking closely enough, the ridges of each brush stroke were visible, making  every hair stand out on the rabbit.

But, Akko decided, she preferred to look at Diana.  So that’s what she did.  It was a quiet atmosphere, and the lighting was somewhat dim, being so far away from the centre of the room, and Akko found it sort of romantic.

Diana, however, was oblivious to  this attention .  She was perusing the menu, a complicated expression on her face, like it was a do-or-die moment.  Akko liked that  serious expression, and the way Diana ran her fingers along the edge of the page, as though petting it, before finally turning it over.  And how she’d occasionally reach a hand up to brush a stray hair out of her face, as she leaned over the menu.  They were all simple things, but Akko could have stared all day.

Well, actually, she couldn’t.  There were  decisions to make.   Somewhat reluctantly, she turned her attention to her own menu.  The Azure Dragon was not, as it had seemed, a Chinese cuisine restaurant.  Opening it, the page immediately assaulted her with choices.  Pasta, hamburgers, clubhouse sandwiches, chicken burgers, pizzas, soups – Akko tried and failed to identify a single theme.  It seemed the restaurant offered anything and everything.

One item caught her attention, and she stared hard at it, trying to figure out why.  It was a stretch, but once she’d seen it, there was no escape.  Platter of Ossetra Caviar.  Platter of caviar.  Dish of caviar.  Caviar dish.  Cavendish.

Akko started giggling.

“Is something the matter?” Diana said.

“Nope.  Nothing at all.”

“Good.”  Diana closed her menu.  “I would like it if you were to return to staying at my place, starting tonight.”

“Okay.”

Diana’s eyes narrowed and she waited a moment longer before speaking.  “Right, then.  And next time you plan on disappearing, you must leave a note.  I was worried about your wellbeing.”

“Okay.”

That was good.  Very good.  Akko was not stupid; she could put the pieces together.  Exhibit A: Diana had kept coming back to the coffee shop, when there were so many other alternatives to securing the safe.  Exhibit B: Diana kept saying she wanted to help, and went so far as to give Akko a place to live.  Exhibit C: Diana kept forgiving her for her screw ups.  Exhibit D: Diana came back for her.  Exhibit E: Diana  had been worried about her wellbeing.

And the most damning piece of all, exhibit F: this was  _ totally _ a date.

So Diana probably liked her.  What next?

“And,” Diana continued, “it appears you have blocked my phone number.  I tried calling you multiple times yesterday.  I would appreciate it if you were to unblock me, so I have a way to contact you.”

“I never blocked you,” Akko said.  “My phone burned in the coffee shop.”

“Of course it did .”   Diana audibly exhal ed .  “So you never blocked my number?”

Akko laughed the absurdity off.  “I’d never do that in a million years,” she said.  “I have a new cellphone, now.”

In actuality, she had memorized Diana’s number (almost unintentionally) after that one call telling her to meet at the park .  B ut admitting to that detail would be weird.  Nobody memorized numbers, nowadays.

Akko pulled out her cellphone, and they exchanged numbers.  She couldn’t resist saving Diana’s information with a heart next to her name.  And then, feeling like she was on a roll, she said she needed a picture of Diana to complete the profile.  Diana acquiesced, and Akko’s new phone soared considerably in value.  It may not have been short shorts attire Diana (or dress), but it was still a darn good picture.

With this unexpected success, Akko resumed scanning the menu. “You know,” she added as an afterthought, “if you want a picture of me for your phone, just say the word.”

Diana turned  a page of her menu.  “That’s not necessary.  I already have plenty.”

It had been said so casually, Akko  accepted it silently .  She scanned the salad choices, wondering if she should order one just to prove she wasn’t a meat-obsessed weirdo.  And then, the full implications of Diana’s words hit her.   _ Plenty.  Aprons. _  She head shot up, her mouth fell open, and she met Diana’s eyes (because Diana had been  _ waiting  _ for the realization).

“You – you don’t mean-” Akko stuttered.

Diana smiled.

The waiter returned.  He placed a glass of water in front of Akko, a glass of water in front of Diana, and a plate of freshly cooked buns in the middle.  They were small and soft – appetizers that could be eaten in two or three bites – but they looked more delicious than they had any right to be, probably because Akko knew that only minutes ago they had been in a huge industrial oven, being cooked over hot flames.

Diana told the waiter they needed longer to decide – though it was really only Akko who hadn’t made  a decision – and then they were alone again.  

“You were saying?” Diana said.

“Uh.”  Akko paused.  The scent of the dinner rolls wafted towards her, and she reached out for one.  Well, food was as good of a distraction as any.  “Let’s eat!”

She juggled the bun in her fingers for a moment, like it was a hot potato, before tearing it in half.  Steam escaped and the heat burnt her fingers.  Dropping one half, she moved to throw the other in her mouth.  But at that moment, her eyes happened to glance over to Diana, who had grabbed a bun of her own.  She was busy cutting it in half with a knife, and a single word crossed Akko’s mind.

She set the bun down and rose to her feet.

“Akko?” Diana said.  “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.”  Akko stared at her bun – the two jagged pieces strewn on the table in front of her – and then to the bun in front of Diana – two pieces of a whole, perfectly sliced in half and now buttered and ready to eat – and then she looked up at Diana.  “Sorry,” she said.  “Bathroom.  I’ll be right back.”

She left the table in a hurry, moving as fast as she could without drawing overt attention to herself.  Only after moving half a dozen steps did she realize she was moving in the wrong direction, and had to reverse – passing the table again, as Diana watched her.  Akko’s thoughts were trying to reorder themselves as she slipped past the waiters and other patrons and into the bathroom.  It was large and luxurious – eight different sinks, each with three different choices of soap, and large ornamental taps – but Akko didn’t care about that.

At the nearest sink, she splashed water on her face and then stared up into the mirror.

 


	30. Cheese Cake

_Love._

That was the word that had come to mind, and the word she’d been unable to push away.

She was in love.  It wasn’t an infatuation with long golden hair, a nice body, or a pleasant voice.  That wouldn’t have explained the fear of losing Diana (or the inexplicable delight and horror upon discovering Diana had a sense of humour).  That wouldn’t explain how the question of forgiveness hadn’t been a question at all, but a foregone conclusion.  That didn’t explain the strengths of the emotions she’d felt around Diana.  They were amplified; they were impossible.  The happiness that had taken over every fibre of her being, only an hour ago, when she had hugged Diana, had surpassed a wall of fire; it overcame a limit that she had thought insurmountable.

It had been more powerful than the emotions she felt in the presence of fire.

This wasn’t supposed to be possible.  It was a defect of her brain – the ruler of her body and all her understanding of the universe and its laws.

Yet love had proved it wrong?  Was this a cliché she had yet to learn about?  A fiery passion defeats a passion for fire?  Akko didn’t know.

And these emotions she felt, if she tried to trace them back, would she find a singular moment, or would it be gradual, built up during Diana’s presences and left to starve in her absences?

How was it that love worked?

It worked by way of Diana’s photography, her food preferences, her confidence, her morals.  It was the way she took the time to cut her appetizer, even when it was small enough to eat in a couple bites.  It was the way she could wake up early every morning to go for a run (Akko had a hard time doing it _once_ , after being shown up by an insane grandma).  It was the way she made Akko feel shameful, whenever Akko did something wrong, and the way she would smile – however rare – when Akko did something right (or at least, not wrong), and the way Akko could never quite know what Diana was thinking, or how she would react, but always _wanted_ to know (that curiosity had been there from the start, hadn’t it?).  It was everything about Diana – from the small to the large to the incomprehensible – and _that_ , that had to mean Akko was in love.

And, _whoops_ , this was a bad time to come to such a conclusion.  Because now Akko had to go back out there and eat a meal without losing her cool.  That task seemed monumentally large, and knowing Akko, probably outright impossible.  Something deep inside made her glance towards the bathroom window – the escape path for comedy movie protagonists everywhere – and she had to quash the thought.  She had a fear of heights, not Diana.  Right?

_Right?_

Taking a deep breath, Akko stepped out of the bathroom.  Don’t screw it up.  In fact – don’t talk.  Smile, nod, and smile some more.

Akko returned to the table and sat down.  Diana hadn’t touched her appetizer yet; she’d been waiting.  Their eyes met.

“I love-”   _Oh, fridge_.  It was worse than being told not to think of a giant cockatrice.  Despite Diana’s leniency and her claim that less thinking was okay, impulsiveness would ruin it.  Now was not the time.  It was too soon for such declarations.  Akko’s eyes wandered over the menu.  “-Brussels sprouts.  I love fried Brussels sprouts.  I think I’ll have those.”

“Akko?” Diana said.

“Yes?”

“Why is your face soaking wet?”

A very astute question.  The fringes of her hair were damp, and it was dripping down her neck and wetting the collar of her shirt.  A single drop managed to fall off her chin, down her shirt, and between her breasts.  Her whole body shivered at the sensation.

“Uh.”  Akko reached out, grabbed a napkin, and began to wipe.  “I tripped in a puddle.”

“If you’re feeling unwell, we can leave.”

“I’m fine!  As fine as a giant cockatrice.”

Diana frowned.  “Are giant cockatrices usually fine?”

“I don’t know,” Akko confessed.  “Yes?”

“I understand,” Diana said.  “But if you change your mind, we can leave at any time.  Now, were you serious about those Brussels sprouts?”

“Yes,” Akko said, locking in.  She needed confidence, now.  Not indecision.  There would be no changing of minds tonight.

“I admit, I’ve always wondered how those taste, but have never had the courage to order them.  But are you sure, Akko?  I won’t be offended if you eat meat.  In fact, I would feel a little uncomfortable if you refrained in my presence.”  She opened her menu again and flipped through the pages.  “That plate is not very large.  You can order it as appetizer, so get something else – do not concern yourself with the price.”

It seemed Diana was completely serious about the dinner being apart of the apology.  She thought apologies had to be more than words – namely, a fancy restaurant and a romantic evening.  Akko had been content with Diana showing up at Amanda’s door – ecstatic, even – but she wasn’t going to say that now.

The waiter returned and Diana pressured her into ordering another plate – some mouth-watering barbecue ribs – and the waiter nodded, saying it was a good choice, even as he noticed Akko’s wet shirt and hair and gave her a weird look.  And then, to Akko’s surprise, Diana ordered a glass of wine (offering Akko, too, but Akko refrained for obvious reasons).

The waiter left, the menus were gone, and they had nothing left to do but wait.  And talk.  Talking was dangerous now, but that didn’t stop Akko.

After an hour of conversation, where she only reaffirmed her love of Brussels sprouts twice more, the food arrived.

The waiter put barbecued ribs in front of her.  He put something-something-with-quinoa-and-tofu in front of Diana.  He put a wine glass in front of Diana.  He filled the wine glass.  He put the plate of Brussels sprouts in between the two of them.  And it was then, in the midst of his well-practised movements, she saw a flicker of the ethereal.  A moment, brief and intense, of unparalleled clarity.  It was then that Akko saw the end of the world.

At the centre of the table, a candle was placed.  A matchstick entered her field of vision, but it was not held by her own hands.  The waiter – a traitor to this evening – lit the candle.

“Enjoy your evening, ladies,” he said before leaving them.

 _Fire_.

It shone brightly in Akko’s eyes.  The end of the world, in a single flame.  A small origin, like the Big Bang, but with catastrophic power.  It would call to her, and it would consume her.  The flames wanted her, and she, them.  But she knew well how dangerous they were, and it would be a deadly dance.  Through space, through time, she could forget herself, and become the fire-

“Akko,” a voice said.  “Akko, look at me.”

Akko blinked.  The Azure Dragon Restaurant, with Diana.  That’s where she was.  Not the end of the world.  Not with fire.

“It’s a small flame,” Diana said.  “Don’t pay it any attention.”

“Okay.”

Diana wasn’t heeding her own advice.  “I should have stopped him, shouldn’t I have?” she said.

“Yeah,” Akko admitted.

“How likely is it to cause a problem?”

“Uh.”  Akko closed her eyes.  “Like, do you want a percent?”

A few seconds passed before she heard Diana sigh.  “I’ll call the waiter to take it away, then.”

Akko reopened her eyes.  “No, wait!  I’ll be fine.  I’m fine.  Totally.”

Diana eyed the candle warily.  “If you insist.”

So dinner continued as Akko put her newest theory to the test: Diana versus fire.  But really, it ended up as Diana _and_ fire, and it was amazing.

“Akko,” Diana said, a short while later.  “The first time we’d met, when I bought a cup of dark roast.  You – you didn’t intentionally mix up the order, did you?”

Akko was stunned by the strategy.  So simple, so beautiful, and so obvious, yet she had never thought of it before.

“No, I didn’t,” Akko said.  “But I am glad I mixed it up.”

“Me too.”

“Are you drunk after one glass?” Akko said.

“I am a lightweight,” Diana conceded, “but in this case, it’s the plain and simple truth.”

Eventually, Akko had to come face to face with another truth.  An ugly truth.  She had an obligation to eat Brussels sprouts.  She didn’t know what they were, but she was pretty sure they were sprouts.   _Plants_.  She was going to act like a deer and eat plants.  Her joy (hesitation) must have been apparent, because Diana watched her curiously as she ate the first one.  To her delight, she found that a restaurant this fancy could make anything taste good.  And then she noticed Diana’s attention switch over to the plate of Brussels sprouts, and Akko had an idea.  The table was small enough, the atmosphere intimate, and the opportunity unbeatable.

She impaled a Brussels sprout on her fork and held it out.

“Here, Diana,” she said.  “Say _ahhh_.”

Diana recoiled at Akko’s intentions.  “That’s – I refuse.  Absolutely not.  That kind of unrefined behaviour is most unfitting of young ladies.”

“Young ladies?” Akko said, smirking.  As if that would deter her.  “Fine.  I’m just going to hold it here until you eat it, and the longer you delay, the more people are going to notice.  It’s like a high five – you can’t leave me hanging-”

And, surprisingly, her logic worked.  Diana brushed her hair back, then leaned in and ate it.

Akko almost squealed; she could die a happy girl now.

Diana, red-faced, looked around the room.  Nobody had noticed, but that didn’t make her look any less embarrassed.

“Never do that again,” she said.

“But was it good?”

“Yes.”

“I bet it tasted even better because I fed it to you.”

“I have my doubts.”

A short while later, Diana ordered a second glass of wine.

 

* * *

 

Never in Akko’s life had she had dessert at a restaurant.  The prices were always too high and not something she had wanted to ask of from her parents.

Tonight more than made up for all those missed desserts (including last night’s).  After some discussion that veered terribly close to arguing, they both decided that the other had no appreciation of real desserts, and thus they would order for each other.  Diana selected strawberry cheesecake for Akko, and Akko triple chocolate fudge for Diana.

When the foods arrived, much to the amusement of the waiter, they immediately swapped plates.

Cheesecake was probably good, like everything else on the menu, but chocolate was the epitome of sweets, and to exclude such an ingredient was a fatal mistake, in Akko’s opinion.  Surely there was such a thing as chocolate cheesecake?  Still, the strawberry on the cheesecake looked red and juicy and oh-so-tempting.  Akko plucked it off the top and ate it.  Indeed, it was as good as it had looked, and Akko moaned in pleasure.  She stopped quickly when she noticed Diana staring at her, horrified.

“Did you just eat the strawberry _first_?” Diana said.  “What kind of barbarian are you?”

“Eh?  What was I supposed to do?”

“That’s like eating the toppings of a pizza and then the flatbread _separately_ .  But it’s _worse_ , because it’s dessert.  It’s so – so self-indulgent, and so...”

“Me?” Akko finished for her.  “Speaking of self-indulgence, how about you quit questioning my wisdom and try the fudge.  Maybe then you’ll understand order, colour, and texture don’t matter.  Taste is king.”

Diana poked at her dessert cautiously, before slicing a small piece off with her fork and eating it.  There was a moment where everything was in scene: Diana, the fire, chocolate fudge.  Perfection?  Maybe it was missing some coins and steak, but it was more than Akko had ever thought she would get out of life.

And then Diana made a face, stopped chewing, and swallowed.

“Remind me again,” she said, “is this diabetes, or dessert?”

Akko nearly slammed the table, but a premonition of a burning tablecloth, restaurant, and world stopped her.

“This was a bad idea,” Diana said.

“Yeah.  Wasting chocolate on someone who can’t appreciate the ultimate dessert.”

“What I meant was, it was a foolish notion that you could appreciate the texture of cheesecake.   _Haute cuisine_ should remain that way.”

“You’re right.  Only the elite would eat something with cheese in its name for dessert.”

Diana quickly scanned the room, as though worried someone might be watching them.  “Swap?” she said.

“Swap.”

They did, and Diana stared at her newly acquired cheesecake.  “It almost feels like you stole my strawberry,” she said.

“I guess so.”

“There’s a special place in hell for people who do things like that.”

Akko laughed.  “I guess that’s where I’m going, aren’t I?”

“No,” Diana said, her voice suddenly harsh.  “No, I was joking.”

“I know you were joking, but it’s still true, isn’t it?  And besides, I don’t mind.  Not if it’s as fiery as fiction says it is.”

With their plates swapped and the world of desserts properly realigned, they resumed eating.

 

* * *

 

“Ow,” Akko said.

Her mouth worked faster than her brain.  She looked at her hand, somewhat surprised it was reached out towards the candle.  A liquid bead of wax, which a moment ago had been dripping down the candle’s length, had been so generously caught in its descent.

Akko snatched her hand back and peeled the wax off her finger.

“ _Ow_ ,” she said again, this time actually meaning it.

For once, it wasn’t her making a scene.  Diana dropped her fork and it clattered to the table, drawing half the room’s attention.  She rose out of her chair and rushed over.

“Show me,” she said.

Akko did, but the burn hurt more with each second, so she put her finger in her mouth and sucked on it.

“Don’t suck your finger,” Diana hissed.  “What are you, a baby?”

“What do you want me to do?” Akko whined.

“Put it in your glass of water.”

Akko obeyed, and sighed in relief.  “You think fire would give me a little leeway, considering how close of a relationship we have.”

“Could you not have waited another five minutes?” Diana said.  “We would have been gone by then, and this could have been averted.”

This question was more conflicting than it should have been, because it meant that Diana’s presence wasn’t enough to fend off her fire temptations.  It had managed for a while, but in the end, Akko had gone back to her roots.  She wondered if it was something that could get better with time, like slowly weaning a child off breast milk.  This was the first attempt, after all.  If Akko didn’t screw anything up in the future, then maybe later experiences would find greater success.

Once Akko was done drowning her poor finger, Diana waved the waiter over and requested the check.

“I’ll pay,” Akko said, remembering the two hundred dollars in her pocket.

“If I were to let you pay,” Diana said, “I believe that would defeat the purpose of the meal.  This is an apology.  Besides, you’re incapable of paying.  As old-fashioned as this place is, they don’t accept paper bills.”

The check wasn’t actually a check, but a hand-held machine.  It took mere seconds for Diana to pull a card out of her wallet, press it against the machine, and complete the transaction.  A short while later, they were walking out of the restaurant.  A short while after that, Diana took Akko’s hand.

“So you don’t get lost,” Diana said, a slight sway in her step.

They held hands all the way back to the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so concludes the 30 days 30 chapters challenge.  It ends in a weird spot – originally, chapters 28/29/30 were one chapter – but I’ve long lost control of this story.  Much like the Shooting Star (and Mundo), it goes where it pleases.
> 
> There are ~6 chapters left.  I will take a short break before spending some time editing the earlier chapters in an attempt to fix OOC (primarily Akko), and then I’ll post the remaining chapters.
> 
> In the meantime , I’m open to feedback.  The OOC is an obvious sore point, but I’d also like to hear about: confusing scenes, boring scenes, least favourite scenes, failed humour, silly typos, & anything else you can think of (good stuff, too, if you want).  You can post as a comment here, send an email to vparallelx@gmail.com , or PM me on FFN ( https://www.fanfiction.net/~vparallel ).
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has commented.  A month ago, I started with a rough draft (and a month prior to that, an innocent idea: hey, I should write a coffee shop AU), and didn’t realize how difficult it would be to transform it into a polished story.  Without your nice words, I wouldn’t have been able to keep the pace up, so thank you to all my readers.
> 
> Please look forward to the next chapter, featuring drunk Diana.


	31. Wine Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, we’re back.  Thank you for your patience, and thank you to those who left feedback.  Changes have been made throughout and there is a new scene in chapter 2 (starts about 1/4 of the way through).

 

The third glass of wine came from the fridge at home.

Diana offered Akko some, too, but she refused.  Instead, she watched in amusement as Diana struggled with removing the cork from the wine bottle.  There were a few attempts in silence, and then a few with words whispered that made Akko feel sorry for the bottle, and then Diana thrust the bottle towards her.

Akko had wanted to prove her worth, but instead ended up questioning the worth of the corkscrew, and Diana was mere seconds away from calling a friend to help with the bottle before Akko snatched the phone away.  Shortly after this, Diana remembered she had a second corkscrew that Hannah had given her for her birthday (April thirtieth – a fact which Akko stored away for next year).  As Diana began to rummage through the drawers for it, Akko moved over to the living room, where she collapsed on the couch and tried to appreciate how amazingly well the day had gone.

After staring at the picture of Diana on her phone for a few minutes, she finally remembered to phone Lotte and tell her everything.  By the time she ended the call, Diana had joined her on the couch, glass of wine in hand.

They sat in silence for a minute, and in that time the totality of the situation hit Akko hard.  She was in love with Diana.  That alone was enough to occupy her thoughts for days, but they were also living together.  How in the world had it come to this?  Suddenly, there was so much more at stake.  Akko wouldn’t be able to bear being kicked out, or screwing up and upsetting Diana again.

When they had first met, she had celebrated getting Diana’s panties, but now the thought was shameful, because back then she hadn’t thought about getting to know Diana better – instead, she’d been content with the success and had treated it like a joke.  Thinking about it now was enough to redden her ears.  The girl she was in love with was sitting next to her, drinking wine.  What was she supposed to do?

“What are you thinking?” Diana said.

“Giant cockatrice.  What’re you thinking?”

“Movie.”  Diana paused to sip her white wine.  “Pick one.”

Dinner, hand holding, and movie?  Akko hadn’t bought a lottery ticket yet had still won.  To put a slight damper on the evening, though, she then remembered she could never win the lottery, because even with a winning ticket, without an identity she would be unable to claim it.

Akko flipped through the available movies on the TV.  This task wasn’t going to be all fun and games.  There were lots of choices, and she needed to pick one that Diana would like.  For a while, she tried selecting a movie and checking Diana’s reaction, but eventually gave up on that tactic when she realized Diana was barely paying attention to the process.  In the end, she chose one of the recommended movies based on Diana’s previous watches.  Akko would have preferred action, but it seemed Diana liked the romances.

With the lights off, they settled in – Diana had a large blanket to cover them and the entire couch – and began the movie.  Akko felt an inordinate amount of pressure, as if the quality of the movie directly reflected on her.  With every corny line, she mentally bashed her head against a wall, and with every surprise – because, really, surprise was the only good element in romance movies – she exhaled in relief.  But there wasn’t much relief.  Especially when Diana started yawning, and Akko couldn’t figure out if she was bored or tired.

About halfway through the movie, Diana pointed at the TV remote and snapped her fingers.  Immediately, Akko handed it over.  Diana was amazingly incompetent with alcohol in her system.  Over the course of a minute, she pressed probably every button except the pause button, and when she finally found it, she muttered a “hah”, and then stared blankly at the television.

“Uh, Diana?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you pause?”

Diana looked away from the TV.  “Refill,” she said, shoving her wine glass forward.

Akko took the glass hesitantly.  “Haven’t you had enough?”

“I’m watching a terrible romance.  Inebriation is a prerequisite.”

“Eh?  Terrible?  But I thought you liked romances.”

“They’re all terrible.  Terrible, terrible, terrible.”

Diana’s words seemed contradictory to her recommended list, but Akko wasn’t going to argue it.  With empty glass in hand, she went to the kitchen, refilled it, and returned.  Handing it over was more fraught with danger than she’d expected, as Diana seemed to have trouble holding it.  She giggled once it was finally in hand – yes, that confirmed it, she was hopeless when drunk – and took a sip.  But Akko didn’t mind this, because Diana was happy and her giggles were cute.

“Are you sure you don’t want any, Akko?” Diana said.

“I’m sure.”

“Hey, Akko?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for all those times I called you Atsuko,” she said.  “It must have hurt, being reminded of – of back then.”

“It’s fine,” Akko said.  “Don’t worry about it.  You didn’t know.”

Diana seemed to ponder the words for a moment.  “Okay.”

And like that, the movie resumed.

All romances followed the same outline – meet, become close, fall apart, come closer again ( _very_ close, this time, depending on the rating) – and it was so predictable that Akko regretted her movie choice.  Where were the explosions and burning buildings?  The antagonist laughing in his evil lair, and his henchmen with their trench-coats, AK47s, and impossibly terrible aim?  Instead, the antagonist had to be non-corporeal, like social status or misunderstandings, and that was just boring.

In fact, even Diana wasn’t watching it anymore.  Instead, she was attempting something very dangerous.  Without any table in reach, she had decided to set her wine glass down on the cushion beside her.  It was an idea so bad not even Akko would have attempted it.  Every time, the glass started to tip and Diana would quickly grab it and try again.  After watching the fifth failed attempt – the point where Diana audibly growled at the glass – Akko stood up, grabbed the glass, and safely delivered it to the coffee table nearby.

“Thank you, Akko.”

By the sounds of it, she was quite impressed with Akko’s problem-solving abilities.  If only Rastavan and Arcturus could be saved so easily.  Akko returned to the couch and sighed.  It was a few minutes later when her boredom vanished in a heartbeat.  The protagonist’s big secret was revealed, and the woman left, furious.  Queue sad music and camera panning out on scene of man standing alone, reaching out for the woman who was long gone.  But no – the movie was not what shocked her.

It was Diana.

She had lifted the blanket up, and was shifting closer.  Akko locked her eyes on the screen – putting every fibre in her body towards focusing on the man’s determination to find the woman – because she was honestly afraid that even moving her head a millimetre would scare Diana off.  And her stillness paid off.  Diana was now sitting directly beside her.  Akko didn’t know what to do, but she knew she was sweating and she wished she had deodorant on because she probably stank – and darn it, why did she have to decide she loved Diana today, of all days?  Too much pressure.  She was going to explode.  Burst into flames.

Diana leaned against her.

That was it.  The end.  Time for self-immolation.  Spontaneous combustion.  They were cuddling.  Under a blanket.  Watching a romance movie.

The end of the world Akko had seen in the candle at the restaurant had been a decoy.  It was Diana, not fire, that was going to break her.  After all, fire was the same year after year, but Diana was growing more powerful with every passing minute.  Every breath, every yawn, every movement.

Amanda had been absolutely right.  Akko was made up of ninety-nine percent false bravado.  The rest of her was so small it was crushed under the weight of this lie that she could seduce someone as beautiful as Diana, and now this reality slapped her in the face harder than the movie’s protagonist had been slapped when his secret came out.  This reality – Diana’s warmth, her subtle breaths, her weight against Akko – had rented out the entire space in her brain, until the movie no longer existed.  The television’s light was distant and forgettable.

Diana put her head down on Akko’s shoulder.

Okay.  Maybe this was some sort of evil joke, and Diana actually hated her.  Because it was impossible for Diana _not_ to hear the beating of Akko’s heart, which had gone so out of control that Akko’s vision may have been turning black even though it was Diana who had been drinking.  But at least Akko could die in bliss.  Or maybe she already had, and this was heaven.  An eternity of cuddling with Diana – that seemed about right.  If only she could _fudging_ calm down and appreciate it.

The movie forgotten, Akko found a saviour in the only thing more insane than her current situation.  It had become a mantra in her head, these past few days.   _Never eat eight envelopes.  Zero!_  It helped clear her thoughts.   _Larry and Rob have forty-nine envelops_ .  It was working.  Her heart beat in sync with the mnemonic.   _Roy prepares six new additions_ .   _Four from the west, but it was only fair_.

And like that, she found peace.  Even when Diana nuzzled against her – even when Diana’s hair tickled her neck – even when Diana rested an arm on Akko’s legs under the blankets – even, amazingly, when the movie’s sex scene started.  Yes, of course it had to have a sex scene.  Akko had chosen a movie with a sex scene.  And she was one hundred percent, undeniably, hopelessly aroused.  It was impossible not to be turned on when in close quarters with a Diana whose inhibitions were lowered.

But Akko would not.  Absolutely not.  Never, ever, _ever_ take advantage of Diana.

It was unthinkable.

Okay, it wasn’t unthinkable.  She was thinking quite a lot about it – but it was un-happen-able.  It would not happen.  This would simply be material for later fantasies (later, as in that very night) and that was that.  Now, would the darn scene fade to black already?  Those moans were too much.  They seemed to be too much for Diana, too, because she suddenly retreated her hand from Akko’s leg and became very still.  She went so far as to stop breathing – even with the alcohol, she still had a modicum of self-consciousness – and Akko kept waiting and waiting for her to start breathing again, until a full minute had passed and she took a deep, shuddering breath.  Subtlety defeated in spectacular fashion.  Amusement momentarily replaced Akko’s lewd thoughts.  For once, she wasn’t the one making a fool of herself.  But Diana wasn’t so far gone as to not learn from her mistake.  As the rest of the scene played out, she continued to breathe normally.

When the sex scene finally ended, Akko had been mere seconds away from excusing herself to the bathroom.  The conflict was gone, and the movie was drawing to an end when Akko realized how conflicted she was.  Diana in such close proximity was both torture, and heaven, and she didn’t know if she wanted it to end so soon.  Alas, as she was contemplating this very profound dilemma, the credits started.

“Does it still hurt?” Diana yawned.

“What?  My finger?”

Diana sat up a little and nodded.

Akko looked at her hand.  It didn’t.  It had been a little uncomfortable on their walk back from the restaurant, but holding Diana’s hand must have healed it.  Now, the skin was a little red, but it no longer hurt.  However, before she could say any of this, Diana motioned for her hand.

“It’s-” Akko started to say.

But Diana was impatient.  When Akko didn’t move her hand closer, she reached out and took it.  There was a second where Diana struggled to find the right finger, and then, without warning, she tugged it closer.  Akko was about to say something of marginal importance, but she was silenced once again.  It had started as a gentle kiss to her finger, but then – and it wasn’t Akko’s fault – she swears – her finger slipped inside Diana’s mouth.  An _eep_ escaped Akko’s lips, but Diana paid it no heed.  She gradually took more of Akko’s finger into her mouth, sucking on it like it needed to be cleaned.  As the wet warmth coated Akko’s finger, it became her turn to forget how to breathe.  Diana’s tongue moved in to assist.  It ran along Akko’s finger, and then curved to cup it.

Akko’s finger was in heaven for a couple more seconds, before Diana pulled away and it escaped with a _plop_.

“There,” Diana said, matter-of-factly.  “I kissed it better.”

“Uhhh.”

Eloquence was never Akko’s speciality.  Especially in this case, when there was a glaring problem with Diana’s statement.  That had not been a kiss.  Nope.  No siree.  Not one bit.  There was also the minor point that Diana had taken it upon herself to ‘kiss’ _the wrong finger_ better.  If she informed Diana of this mistake, would there be a redo?  Did Akko want one?  Again, this was pushing into dangerous territory.  Diana would never have done such a thing without alcohol in her system.  If she remembered this night, they would probably never be able to make eye contact again.  So... wasn’t it up to Akko to put a stop to this?

A more shameful, desperate part of Akko wished she hadn’t refused Diana’s multiple offers of wine, throughout the evening.

“Is something wrong?” Diana said, showing hesitation for the first time.

“No.”  The lie was said on autopilot.  Retrospection on Diana’s part would do neither of them any good.  “Uh – so – what did you think of the movie?” Akko said.

“That guy didn’t deserve her.  He kept such a terrible secret.”  Diana paused, moving her head slightly but still resting it on Akko’s shoulder.  “Like you.  You sell drugs, don’t you?”

“I did.”

“That’s even worse.  Bad girl.”  Diana yawned, taking away any weight her scolding might have had.  “Ruining peoples’ lives.”

Akko bit her tongue.  Most people who lived in Rastavan already had effectively ruined their lives – how else would they end up in a dump like that?  But Akko wasn’t going to argue with Diana.  It would have been futile.

Diana spoke quietly, this time.  “When the government comes for Rastavan, you’re going to try to stop them, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“But that’s dangerous.”

Akko waited for her to elaborate.  “Yes,” she said slowly.

“Don’t do dangerous stuff.  It’s not safe.”

“Well, you’re right about that, but I kinda need to.”

“Fine.  I’ll help.”

“ _What?_ ”

Diana hummed thoughtfully.  “I’ll help you stop those axeholes.”

“Uh-”

Diana started giggling.  “That’s what you would call them, right?  Because you don’t swear.”

“I mean, I think I would have went for sassholes-”

The giggling redoubled, and Akko didn’t need alcohol to realize the absurdity of the situation.  Disregarding the silly words and intense tongue-on-finger action, they were still cuddling on a couch, talking about treason.  Whether it was their conversation, or Diana’s infectious amusement, Akko didn’t know, but she started laughing too.  Sometime later, the credits had ended, and with half a mind, Akko reached out, found the remote, and turned the TV off.  This, however, left them in almost complete darkness.  There was a single window through which moonlight filtered in, but it wasn’t enough to walk around in a strange house without stubbing her toe.

“Sassholes,” Diana said, her giggle fit subsiding.  “That works, too.  I think it’s adorable, how you don’t swear.”

Akko opened her mouth to explain why, but her mind hit a block.  What was the reasoning behind her aversion to profanity?  She contemplated this for a moment, expecting it to come back to her as a silly memory, like something a teacher had once told her, or something said on TV, but nothing arrived.  Even without an explanation, Akko also found she couldn’t start swearing now.  She could process the word ‘assholes’ in her head, but refused to go any further, because it felt like it would be disrespecting _something_.  Not to mention that Diana thought it was cute.

“Hey, hey,” Diana said.  “What did you think of the chick?”

“Uh.  In the movie?  I don’t know.  I don’t think she should have forgiven him.”

“No.”  Diana poked her.  “That’s not what I mean.  I mean, she _obviously_ could have done better.  But did you think she was hot?”

“Uh-”

“I think she was.  Really hot.  Like, the morning after when she was laying in bed naked, the sheets barely covering her breasts.”  Diana started to giggle again.  “But not as hot as you in an apron.”

“Uh.  You deleted those pictures, right?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Never mind.”  Akko would do it at the earliest possible convenience.

“Hey,” Diana said, poking her in the stomach.  “Do you want to burn something?”

“What do you mean by that?”  The words came out in a rush.  She couldn’t help it.  Last time she’d wanted to burn something, Diana had so thoughtfully offered an alternative.

But Diana didn’t elaborate.

“Uh.  Diana?”

Akko shook her gently.  But alas, it was not to be.  Diana had fallen asleep.

Fortunately, Akko was in a comfortable position already, so she adjusted the blanket on them and closed her eyes.  And then she opened them again and looked at her finger.  She had resisted from making any critical mistakes this evening, so she deserved a little reward, didn’t she?  Feeling both like a pervert and a little baby, she took her finger into her mouth and sucked on it.  Unfortunately, Diana’s saliva had mostly dried.  Akko didn’t know what she had expected.

But still, it was a victory.  Sleeping together, but not sleeping together.  Even if it took Akko several hours to actually fall asleep.


	32. Old Name

When Akko woke up the next morning, she was alone.

Of course she was.  Diana had snuck off some time during the night, probably shortly after sobering up and realizing she was snuggled up against Akko.  Still, it felt like some of Diana’s presence had remained, in the warmth of the blanket, and Akko buried herself in that warmth.

Yesterday had been surreal.  A large part of this feeling had been because of last night, but the evening, afternoon, and morning, too, were important.  She had read through almost all of Big F’s documents, and despite forgetting a lot of it (it was difficult keeping track of all the bribes, blackmails, and business agreements), she felt like her understanding of the situation had fundamentally changed.  This didn’t magically fix their problems, but there was something calming about _knowing_.

Today, she would be meeting with Chariot and Croix, and tomorrow, everyone.  Each of them, alone, had little to contribute, but banded together, they would become a force to be reckoned with.  Or so she hoped.

It was with great reluctance that Akko stood up.  She was still in last day’s clothing – the movie had been a sudden thing, and neither of them had changed into pyjamas – but rather than go change, there was a more pressing matter to address.  She was composed, she was confident, and she was going to confront Diana.

Entering the kitchen was something Akko would never tire of.  There was something almost nostalgic about it, like this domestic life was long gone or belonged in non-existent memories.  Diana was sitting at the table, one hand scrolling through the news on her tablet, while the other held her coffee cup.  This was her pattern.  Sunlight streaming in on her rhythm of daily life.  Soon, she would leave for a run, and then it was work.

“Good morning,” Diana said without looking up.

“Morning!” Akko sang.

She was over yesterday’s shock and was going to prove it.  Love was familiar to her now – she had around sixteen hours of experience with being in love, so it would be foolish to let it trip her up any longer.

“Hey, Diana,” she said.

“Yes?”

But Akko didn’t respond.  Instead, with all her might, she stared.  Finally, Diana looked up.

The moment their eyes met, Akko said, “You were really cute last night.”

Diana’s eyes quickly returned to her tablet.  “I apologize for overstepping my bounds last night, but I do not believe it merits ridicule.”

“Ridicule?  That’s not what I-”

“Please forget about the evening.  In its entirety.”

“Diana,” Akko whined.

“However, I do recall saying one thing last night – _one thing –_ that remains true even after I have regained all my faculties.”

“The me-being-hotter-than-the-woman-in-the-movie part?”

“Did I say that?” Diana said.  “I think your imagination is getting away from you.  I was serious when I said I wanted to help.  To protect Rastavan, in any way I can.”

Akko hadn’t really thought it over, but she found that she didn’t need to.  Bringing Diana any closer to the conflict was unacceptable.  “Thanks for the offer,” she said, “but no.  I can’t let you do that.”

“Do you think I won’t be of any help?”  Diana pushed her tablet away and glared at Akko.  “Because I’m not good with guns or poisons or fire?  You think there’s nothing I can do?”

“That’s not it,” Akko said, while simultaneously wondering if there was any truth to it.

“I have the power of the Cavendish name, which can get me farther than Chariot’s infiltration of the government.  And if you’re keeping me at arm’s length because you don’t trust me, I would say it’s a mistake.  My past actions may not reflect favourably upon me, but consider these past few days.  I haven’t betrayed you, despite everything I know.”

“Slow down, Diana.  It’s not that.  It’s...”  Akko hesitated.  “I – uh – I don’t think I’ve actually said this, not outright, but, um, I like you, Diana.  A lot.  And that’s why I can’t let you get involved in this.  It’s dangerous, and stupid, and we all know that but can’t _not_ do something.  Not when our home is in trouble.  And I do stupid stuff all the time, but it would be worse than stupid to let you get sucked into this conflict – it’s my home that’s at stake, not yours.”

“If you recall,” Diana said, “you burned your house down.  You live here, now.”

This stopped Akko.  Could she refute this statement?  Yes.  Did she want to?  No.  There was no pretty way out of this conversation.

Diana rose from her chair.  Even though she didn’t look angry, it was a sudden movement, and more rigid than Akko had come to expect from Diana.

“This conversation does us no good,” Diana said, as she rinsed her cup at the sink.  “If you will not allow me to assist you, then I’m left to believe that ‘a lot’ doesn’t count for much.  As I’ve said once before, actions speak louder than words.  Now, if you don’t mind, it is time I head out for my run.”

 

* * *

 

“Toilet paper.”

“Come again?” Akko said.

“Toilet paper.”

“Uh.”

“Sorry,” Croix said, on her partner’s behalf.  “I understand you think toilet paper isn’t the best weapon to topple a nation, however, this is Chariot we’re working with.”

 

* * *

 

It was cold outside – a fact Akko tried hard not to accept as she entered the abandoned laundromat at noon.

Chariot had chosen the place, and Wire had prepared it.  The garbage and dust had been swept aside, the old washers and dryers pushed out of the way, and an even older table and chairs added.

Upon entering, everyone disposed of their phones into a basket attended to by two men, who also guarded the doors.  This was to be a secure meeting.  And that was why, as Akko sat down at the table, she was surprised.  The median age of the room was very young.  For a top-secret meeting that would involve more treasonous acts than people present, there seemed to be an unnatural amount of trust in the younger generation.

Lotte was sitting at the table next to Chariot.  This was one of many unexpected friendships formed in the past few days.  Chariot had been on the lookout for people with competent social skills (something many of Arcturus’ citizens lacked), and Lotte had caught her attention.  Able to manipulate and cold read people with ease, Lotte would be the perfect ally for infiltration missions.

The faerie problem had been brought up, and surprisingly, Lotte conceded one of her previous personal rules.  If they were going into a high-stakes situation, she would take medicine to help negate the hallucinations.  This concession bothered Akko.  Lotte was the one who had originally convinced her not to rely on medicine.  But that wasn’t the only thing that bothered her.  Try as she might, she could not ignore the fact that she was jealous of Lotte getting to work with Shiny Chariot.

This jealousy was amplified by the other person recruited by Chariot.  Amanda was sitting at the table.  Without her cellphone, she looked as if she might die of boredom.  In her case, it was sleight of hand and confidence – two of the most important attributes for a con artist – that drew Chariot’s attention.  Akko couldn’t deny Amanda’s abilities – she’d seen the girl talk herself out of multiple speeding tickets and other road violations – but it was still infuriating, because Amanda had seen fit to brag about it at every given opportunity.

Chariot had perhaps sensed Akko’s feelings, because they’d had a discussion the other day.  Aside from the critical toilet paper conversation, she had explained seeing Akko in a different role.

When Akko had received the safe password from Big F, she had become, essentially, his successor.  She was the only one present who had read the documents he had left behind, and she had ties to Rastavan, Team Polaris, and Arcturus.  As such, she was present as a mediator of sorts.  Which seemed silly, because everyone at the meeting was on the same side.

Croix had also taken on apprentices (or assistants, or whatevers).  Constanze was a genius, and a friend of Amanda’s, so it made sense to bring her into the inner circle.  She and Croix shared a love of technology, and a desire to create and improve.  Together, Akko suspected they had the ability to do great and terrible things.  Well, mostly terrible things, considering Sucy was the other person sitting with Croix.  This completed the members of the Shining Star project, and it made sense, but it furthered Akko’s feeling of inadequacy.  Out of her close group of friends (and one acquaintance), only her and Jasminka were left out.

(If Big F were still alive, would he have been their mentor?)

Also at the table were three people from Arcturus: Altair, the Keeper of Wagandea and the mayor of Arcturus’ proxy for the meeting; Woodward, the Guardian of the Door and nobody-knew-nobody-asked; and Nicholas, the Tunnel Wanderer and local sewer expert.

Rounding out the group was Wire, as the temporary leader of Rastavan.  Everyone present knew about the threat to Rastavan and Arcturus, and had been briefed on the Social Percentage Plan.  Those three points were the focus of the meeting.  But there were still a few minutes before it was set to start, and Wire waved her over.

“Hi, Wire,” Akko said.  “How’d the meeting with the lawyer go?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Echo.  This may surprise you, but Big F has given everything to his sister’s daughter.”

“Me,” Akko said, after a one-second-too-long pause.

“Yes and... no.”

Akko knew immediately, and she bristled at the thought.  “Atsuko Kagari.”

Wire nodded.

The problem both explained a lot, and generated more confusion.  Big F knew she was Zapped, so why would he specify _Atsuko_ in his will?  She couldn’t believe it was outdated, because Big F would have had no reason to give her anything before she’d been Zapped and they had first met.  But this explained a bit of the government’s confidence.  They could easily check Atsuko on the Network, and see she hadn’t been active in years.  Then, knowing nobody would speak up, they could ignore the will – and the real-estate therein – and continue with their plans to demolish Rastavan and Arcturus.

Wire reached into his coat and pulled out a pink knife covered in sequins (someone needed to have a word with him about target audiences), and began carving into the table, peeling off bits of wood.  The reasoning behind this action became apparent shortly thereafter.  Croix took a seat on the other side of Akko.  Though they weren’t enemies anymore, it seemed Wire and Croix still held some animosity towards each other.

“Sounds like you’re in a pinch,” Croix said.

Akko nodded dumbly, still thinking about it.  There was lots of money in his assets, but she didn’t need money.

Croix was looking forward, ignoring Wire and his knife entirely.  “Do you remember what I promised you?”

“Huh?” Akko said.

“When I first visited your shop, I said I would look into your situation.  And I have.  The Network microchips are biocompatible semi-active RFID chips, approximately the size of a grain of rice, and, as you received yours after twenty-ten, it was implanted in your neck.  Being Zapped simply means the capacitor within the microchip is no longer functioning properly.  Because of its size, there’s not much anyone can do about it.  It can’t be replaced because it has an encrypted unique identifier on it, and it can’t be fixed, because no privately owned company has the resources or capability to make capacitors on such small of a scale.”

“No _private_ company?” Akko said.

“Yes.  In theory, you could steal one from a government facility, but security is pretty tight on that kind of tech.  And even if you did somehow get your hands on a capacitor, you would still need to extract the chip from your neck and remove the old capacitor before installing the new one.  All in all, I wouldn’t recommend that route.”

“Is there a route you would recommend?”

“Possibly.  I’ve spoken with the mafia.”

That was not a faction Akko expected to hear mentioned.  They didn’t have much presence in the capital.  They worked in the coastal cities, where imports and exports passed through.  Any time the mafia tried to set up a presence in the capital, the military got involved and flushed them out.  Six years ago was their most recent attempt, and it had resulted in lots of deaths.  The city had had shootouts everywhere, and it hadn’t been safe to be outside at night.

“They have a man who knows how to isolate and copy the encrypted unique identifier,” Croix went on.  “With surgery, he can remove your chip, copy its data, and overwrite it onto a new chip.  This is all theory, but he’s quite confident in it, and is looking for a test subject.”

The phrase ‘test subject’ didn’t scare her nearly as much as it should have.  She had Sucy to thank for that.  But...

“A new chip?” Akko said.  “Where would he get one?”

“It wouldn’t be new,” Croix confessed.  “Just one that’s no longer in use.”

“From a dead person?”

“I’ll be honest, it’s not pretty, but it’s your best choice.  The surgery would be dangerous and you would be going through the mafia to get it done, but if this is what you want, then none of that should matter.”

How many years had it been, since people started being tracked by the chips?  The reduction in crime and missing people had been reported widely throughout the country, and Akko had personally read some of the published articles on the subject.  

But for most people, safety wasn’t even the primary concern when it came to the chip.  It was the perpetual trade-off between convenience versus privacy.  An inescapable decision, for which the vast majority didn’t think twice about.  When life was so complicated, who would turn their backs on a little more convenience?

It was weird that she had to think about it in the opposite direction.  Privacy was a universal human right.  Her parents had valued it, and it was a contributing factor to why they had left the country.  In their place, Big F had become her guardian, and he had carried this same value, and, intentional or not, continued to influence her.

“It’s not worth it,” Wire said.  “Too dangerous.”

Croix shrugged.  “It’s your decision, Akko.  If you ask, I’ll put you in contact with them.  There’s no rush, so think about it, if you want.”

Akko nodded.  She looked up at everyone around the table.  Every face was at least a little familiar.  Woodward was watching her closely from across the table, but most other people were already deep in their own conversations.

“Are you ready, Croix?” she said.

Croix nodded.

Akko spoke louder this time.  “It’s five past noon, let’s start.  Our topics of discussion today are Rastavan, Arcturus, and the Social Percentage Plan.  Croix will start us off with a quick overview on secure communications and get us set up with some PGP encryption.”

Croix stood up and began talking.

But her voice faded out of Akko’s attention.

Akko had privacy, but convenience was now a possibility.  Now, of all times.  Now, after Big F had died, after meeting Diana, after so many years.  Was this just a coincidence?

 _Croix, Chariot, and Fafnir_ .  They had come together under Croix’s leadership.  Her strategies had been the keystone of Team Polaris (until her failure).  But who had taught Croix?  Her literal high school teacher, Big F.  He was a quiet man, but very intelligent.  He didn’t age well, but he _did_ age, and from time comes wisdom.  With this in mind, Akko was left to recognize the possibility that Big F had foreseen this development, and that his will was some kind of last message.

A concise question, to Akko.

_Who was she?_


	33. A Kiss

“I’ll say this one last time,” Croix said, slamming a hand down on the table.  “This is not a silver bullet.  If you need to be absolutely sure your communications aren’t being intercepted, talk in person.  The cell towers do _not_ belong to us.  Metadata is _not_ our friend.  Wireless is _not_ secure.  If any of you don’t take this seriously, I will know, and I will hunt you down.  A failure by one of us puts us all in danger, and you will be punished appropriately.”

Chariot perked up at this declaration, but Croix sat down without acknowledging her.

“Thank you,” Akko said.

She stood and surveyed the room.  Earlier concerns about an uncooperative Amanda and Sucy hadn’t panned out.  They were both listening intently.

“In a few moments, Chariot will take over and layout plans for the following weeks,” Akko said.  “But first, a reminder of the time schedule.  In two months, the first trial of the Social Percentage Plan will begin in Exeter and the surrounding region.  On the twenty-ninth – that’s ten days from now – Rastavan will get a visit by some important people at eight am.”

“The twenty-ninth,” Altair said.  “That’s the anniversary of our country leaving the EU.”

“It is,” Akko said.  “There’ll be celebrations, and this will work in our favour, as Chariot will now explain.”

Akko took her seat again.

“Listen up, everyone,” Chariot said, clapping her hands twice like a school teacher.  “We’re onto the primary topic of today’s meeting – our plan of action.  Ten days from now, a party will enter Rastavan with the intention of surveying the neighbourhood in preparation for demolition.  This party will consist of a minimum of twenty individuals: Prime Minister Hanbridge; General Blackwell; two officers from the military; Mayor Miranda Holbrooke; the municipal government’s foremost General Contractor, Mr England; Ural, a representative from the UN who will act as an impartial observer; myself; and a dozen police officers as escort.  Also present will be an unknown number of Specialist Protection Command, who will be spread loosely around the neighbourhood and following us in unmarked cars.”

“Okay,” Amanda said.  “That’s great and all, but remind me again, who the fuck are you?  Accompanying Prime Asshole and the foremost impartial specialist police is hella suspicious.  You show up out of nowhere and pretend you’re our friend, while working for the government, and there’s nothing about you online.”

Akko had relaxed too soon.  Apparently Amanda was saving her attitude for Chariot, who was the reason Amanda was able to attend in the first place.  So much for gratitude.

Chariot took this in stride.  “As much as I like the name my parents gave me, I no longer go by Chariot du Nord.  You were looking in the wrong direction.”

“Well, then, please,” Amanda said.  “Enlighten us.”

“My official name is Ursula Callistis.”

Amanda snorted.  “I thought the point of a name change was to go from a shitty name to a _less_ shitty name.  Is it too late for a refund?”

“However you, _and others_ , may feel, to the public I am Ursula Callistis.”

“Ursula Ca-”

“Amanda, enough,” Akko said.

Normally, this would have redirected Amanda’s aggression towards Akko, but this time, Amanda closed her mouth, and darn if it didn’t feel good.  Maybe being a mediator wasn’t all that bad.

Chariot nodded towards Akko in thanks.  “PM Hanbridge has an address to the nation to make, so he will part early, along with his Specialist Protection Command.  Mr England will form an opinion on the feasibility of demolition, rezoning, and reconstruction of the neighbourhood.  Following his visit to Rastavan, he will write up a report and deliver it to the government, and, depending on his recommendation, this will begin the official demolition process.  From there, we will have at most a month before the police begin to vacate the neighbourhood.  In all likelihood, however, if it reaches that point it will be much too late.  We must act before then.  As I’ll be present at the inspection, I’ll attempt to persuade Mr England and company that it is not in their best decision to rebuild Rastavan.  That’s why I got a government job in the first place.  To use my voice, and convince them to act in the best interest of the people.  Even if it’s futile, I feel obligated to try.

“There are a few points to note.  Firstly, despite General Blackwell’s presence, the military will play no part in this – even when we fight back.  The military protects the people and is independent of the government.  They do not get along – there’s a long history of clashes between them – and this works in our favour.

“Secondly... I’m not sure about the right word – the way to describe the situation we’re facing – but there’s a sort of dissonance among our enemies.  Disharmony, if that makes sense.  Everybody has their own focus – their own goals – and this means we’re walking through a minefield – not just dancing around a single enemy.  And this isn’t even just between the government and military.  It’s on every level.  The local government and Her Majesty’s Government.  The Prime Minister and the Cabinet.  They aren’t as cohesive as you’d think.  Because of this, Mr England is a key player.  Paid a large sum by the government to approve of the demolition, he has great power in this situation.  But he doesn’t work for the government – he works for the mayor of the city, and the mayor, technically, has the final say in what happens to Rastavan.  If Mr England denies the project, then it would temporarily halt the government’s plans.  Of course, they would eventually find a different way to get at Arcturus, but it wouldn’t be easy for them.  As such, Mr England is the weak point.

“Thirdly, the only person who will be present who is aware of the plan to shut down Arcturus is the Prime Minister.  The others may be aware of a homeless population living underground, but they know nothing of the scope of the situation.  The PM and his people are the ones focusing on Arcturus.  You could say they’re our short-term enemy.”

Chariot must really have seemed like a teacher, because despite being expelled from school, Lotte still raised her hand.

“Yes, Lotte?” Chariot said.

“What about the UN observer you mentioned?”

“A non-entity, as far as it concerns us.  They like to insert themselves into our business, considering our country’s prior history, but, barring extreme circumstances, the most they tend to do is embargo the country, which is nothing but a minor inconvenience.  We can’t rely on them for anything.  Now, it’s both obvious that we can’t afford to pay Mr England off, and that I’ll fail to persuade him, so we will need to act immediately.”  

Chariot stopped to look at Croix and Akko.  Both of them nodded.  The plan had been sketched out the other day, and it was time to hear everyone’s thoughts.

“We propose a three-pronged attack on the day of the inspection,” Chariot continued.  “On the twenty-ninth, as the day our country withdrew from the European Union, there will be celebrations throughout the nation.  Usually, the capital’s event draws a crowd in excess of a hundred thousand people.  This will require a substantial part of the police force’s attention.  It is a high tension day, and we’re looking to push it further.  The first prong will be a protest outside the parliament.  It will be led by Altair, and requires the support of Arcturus.

“The second strike will be for Rastavan, and by extension, it will delay any attempts to clear out Arcturus.  As I said earlier, Mr England is the weak point.  Or rather, _has_ a weak point.  He has a daughter, whom we’ll borrow.  Our demand will be simple: do not approve of Rastavan’s demolition.  He values his daughter greatly, and is all but guaranteed to comply.  This will be led by Akko, with assistance from Sucy and Lotte.”

Kidnapping.  Nobody present was going to stand up and say something like “but that’s bad!”.  Four years ago, Akko might have.  But whoever had coined the term Zapped knew what they were talking about.  It was appropriate; an instantaneous change.  A sudden removal from society.  On a superficial level, that’s what it was, and most people didn’t look beyond, but when it had happened to Akko, she’d had time for retrospection.  Her life hadn’t been perfect before, but it had been simple, with grand dreams, and then one day they were all lost and as much as she would have liked to believe humans weren’t such simple creatures, so too had gone many of her morals (and, in their place, fire).

“The third strike will occur later in the day, after the inspection is over.  Lotte, Amanda, Wire, and Croix will assist me.  This task is vital, and with some luck, we will scare the government into passivity.”

“Scare?” Amanda said.  “Fat chance.”

“Yes,” Chariot said, “you’re right.  Our chance _is_ quite large.  After all, we’re going to be using toilet paper.”

Idiom turned on its head, the room fell silent.

“Like, the stuff you wipe your ass with?” Wire finally said.

“Yes.”  Chariot smiled.  “One roll, single ply.  Cheap stuff.”

Woodward was nodding in understanding, in great contrast to the rest of the room.

And thus, logically, Chariot began talking about toilet paper.

 

* * *

 

Several days later, Akko was _still_ living with Diana.

As it turned out, landlords were stricter in neighbourhoods that didn’t rhyme with ‘pasta man’.  Without a job or any good references, Akko wasn’t finding any success.

Diana hadn’t been asking her about it, but Akko still felt like a burden.  As much as she would have loved to stay with Diana forever, the current arrangements were putting an imbalance on their friendship.

Rastavan wasn’t a subject that was brought up anymore.  Diana had relented on that point, and things had returned to something resembling normalcy.  Actually, better than normal, since Akko was allowed to help Diana in the garden, and go with her on her morning runs (although she was left behind after the first couple kilometres).

When the temperature started dropping, Diana had purchased a treadmill to continue her daily runs inside (and this meant she couldn’t leave Akko behind, because Akko just sat beside her and enjoyed the sight, while blabbering on about whatever topic she thought would entertain Diana).

Moving out would be easier with a job, so Akko had eventually moved her focus onto that.  But without an active identity on the Network, it, too, was proving challenging.  And maybe her lack of success was showing in her mood, because four days before Operation Almost Light – named by Woodward, in anticipation of her ‘Day of Light’ – Diana made a surprising suggestion.  It had been nearly a week since their movie night, and Diana suggested another.  She hadn’t been drinking, when she’d made the suggestion, and hadn’t gone to get a glass of wine, either.

Like before, it was up to Akko to choose the movie.  Having learned from last time, she avoided romance and picked an older movie, which was less likely to feature sex.  When they both settled on the couch, Akko was marginally upset that their progress had been reset from the last movie night.  Diana sat on the other side of the couch, as far as she could get from Akko.

Ten minutes into the movie, Akko found she couldn’t enjoy it.  Not with Diana so close yet so far away.  This was no different than eating at the kitchen table every morning and night, but still, her greed demanded more, and it might have been obvious, because Diana even looked over momentarily before turning her attention back to the movie.

Twenty minutes in, Akko severely regretted not choosing a horror movie.  Then Diana would have been scared into cuddling.  Disregarding it being a cheap tactic, the only flaw was that Akko wasn’t so resilient to horror movies herself, and she would have been the one hiding in Diana’s arms.  Not that that mattered.  It sounded perfectly fine to her.

Before the thirty minute mark, Diana had glanced over three times, and it was then that Akko made a decision.  Either she was projecting, or Diana wanted to cuddle but refused to make the first move.  Akko knew which possibility was more likely, but she also didn’t care.  She made the decision, so now it was time to act.

Knowing it better not to attempt subtlety, she tossed her end of the blanket aside and stood up.  It was a weird mirror of last time.  As Akko moved the necessary three steps to get beside Diana, Diana did not look away from the movie, or say anything.  Like nothing at all was happening, Akko sat down beside her.   _Perfect_ .  The hard part was done.  Next, she started to lean against Diana.  An astonishing correction stopped her: the hard part was _not_ done.

How?  How does one cuddle?  Akko didn’t know.  Being on the receiving end was easy, but she had never thought about initiating it.  Did she have to do something more?  Wrap her arms around Diana?   What had Diana done?  It hadn’t been anything special, right?  She wasn’t over-thinking it, was she?  Why couldn’t she have paid more attention?  Why did intimate contact have to be so complicated?  Why did she have to second guess everything?  Why was she such an idiot?  Whatever happened to her unwavering confidence?  Whatever happened to listening to Diana and _thinking_ before acting, for once?

Diana began to move her hand, and just like that, Akko knew she had screwed up.  This was not another under-the-blanket-hand-on-Akko’s-leg moment.  This was an above-the-blanket, preparing-to-push-the-idiot-away moment.  This was not a drunk Diana.  This was a very aware and very annoyed Diana.  The idiot stiffened as the hand approached, but it mercifully passed her by.  Instead of punishing the idiot, it reached out and grabbed the end of the blanket that the idiot had bunched up during the move, and began fixing it so it covered the idiot’s shoulders and legs.

And then the hand returned, and all was quiet.  Akko was snuggled up against Diana, admonishing her brain for freaking out in ten different ways over the past ten seconds, while also silently enjoying a victory that had been shamefully difficult to achieve.

Shortly after this, Akko realized there was a movie on the TV.  She began watching it.

 

* * *

 

When the credits started rolling, Akko decided the movie had exceeded her expectations.  And this was ignoring outside factors, like Diana, Diana, and Diana.  But with time travel elements, that was almost a given.  She liked those kinds of movies, no matter how twisted the logic ended up being.

“Akko,” Diana said.  “Sit up.”

Akko debated pretending to be asleep, but the seriousness of Diana’s voice overrode the decision.

“Yeah?” she hummed, sitting up.

Diana turned to face her, sitting crossed legged on the couch.  Akko mirrored her position and waited, and waited, and waited.  But Diana said nothing.  There was the possibility that this was a staring contest, and that Akko should begin making funny faces, but it also seemed like a good time for reflection.  They had just finished watching a movie about the frailty of the human mind, the unreliable nature of memories, and the question of fate versus freedom.  It wasn’t amazing, and it wasn’t happy (in fact, the man died at the end), but despite this, it carried a certain mood that Akko felt would stick with her for a long time.

She tried to make eye contact with Diana, but found this impossible.  Diana’s eyes were unfocused and flittering from the credits on the screen, to the couch, to the wall, and to everywhere except Akko.  This left Akko in the awkward position of not knowing where to look, or if she should speak – and if she _should_ speak, then did it have to be serious, or could she crack a joke to break this high tension moment?

And finally, with Akko’s expectancy at an all-time high, Diana’s lips parted.  It felt like an important moment was coming up – one where Diana brought up a thought-evoking question which turned the movie on its head and revealed an entirely new theme which would reframe the past two hours they had spent together.

“I don’t get it.”

There it was.  So insightful, so intelligent, so-

“Eh?”  Akko’s shoulders dropped as the stress left her body.  “You don’t get it?”

Diana wouldn’t look at her.  She was embarrassed.  She nodded once.

Akko laughed, somehow relieved nothing dramatic needed to happen.  “Well, that’s easy enough to explain.  You see, he didn’t want to go back to the present.  They wanted him dead because of this, so they gave him a gun, knowing he couldn’t change the past but would still try.  And he probably knew this, too, in the last seconds, but he remembered that he saw himself die, so he had to follow through anyways.  Y’know.  Fate, and all that jazz.”

“No,” Diana said.  “Not the movie.   _You_.”

“Me?”

“I don’t get you.”

“Uh.”  Akko shot down her first reaction – namely, that Diana already had her – and tried to understand what it was that seemed to trouble Diana so much.  She came up with nothing.  “Did... did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Diana said immediately.  Then she bit her lower lip.  “Yes.  Maybe.”

“Diana-”

“You did nothing.”

If Diana had added the word ‘wrong’ at the end of the statement, Akko would have felt much better.  But still, wasn’t doing nothing much better than doing something?  Especially in Akko’s case?

“Could you maybe, elaborate, or something?” Akko said, the words coming out in a whisper to match Diana’s volume.

But Diana became even quieter in the next second, and Akko struggled to catch her words.

“You didn’t... last time...”

“I didn’t?”

“So I thought... this... but...”

“Huh?”

Diana looked up, clutching a fistful of blanket.  “Actions speak louder than words.  You said you like me.  Prove it.”

And then Akko noticed how red Diana was.

“Prove it?” Akko said.  “Actions – you mean, like-”

_Like a kiss._

“You should know by now,” Diana continued, shifting her legs off the couch, “I don’t dislike you-”

Akko wasn’t going to get a clearer invitation than this (unless Diana was drunk, but in that case it wouldn’t qualify as an invitation).  Yet as she realized this, the room darkened.  The movie’s credits had ended, and the TV screen turned black.  Akko was blind, her heart beating rapidly and her brain not doing much at all but echoing Diana’s words.

She crawled forward, and it was dark and she was afraid she would end up doing something stupid like kissing Diana’s eye and Akko really should have waited a couple minutes for her own eyes to adjust to the dark but it was so obvious she couldn’t wait and so she had to pause now and figure things out.  Their faces were inches apart.  Diana – Diana was waiting expectantly, and probably wondering what Akko was doing, stopping, and Akko didn’t want to send the wrong message, but it was hard to know what message stopping actually sent.  But at least she now knew exactly where Diana’s lips were.

This was enough to calm Akko down, and she decided to take it slow, to savour every second of it.  Gently, she closed the distance to Diana’s lips.  The contact was light, and the kiss chaste.  Akko didn’t know if it was different for Diana, but for herself, it was so much more sensitive – literally.  Their first kiss had been amidst stress, fire, and desire, and that growing insanity had taken away from her senses, so she couldn’t remember much detail except for how amazing it had been.

In time, the kiss changed from chaste to intimate.  Somehow, kissing was easier than cuddling, though she was equally inexperienced.  Diana’s lips were soft – of course they were – and she was probably weirded out by how slow Akko was taking it, but she wasn’t pressing it, either, and Akko decided she liked this.  Having full control of the kiss, deciding how to move, when to increase the intensity, and when to breath – it was so thrilling.  And Akko was in no hurry.

But there was so much more joy to it than just that.  When she finally realized she had a body outside of her lips, Akko reached out and wrapped her arms around Diana’s neck, simply because the idea was cliché and she couldn’t resist it.  She also couldn’t resist digging her fingers into Diana’s hair a bit, and though she was probably making a mess of it, Diana didn’t resist.  Akko didn’t keep track of time – didn’t want to – and every time she had to break the kiss to inhale and exhale, Diana half followed her, as though reluctant to allow her to breathe.

At some point, a small amount of light returned to the TV, and it seemed to signal a stop.  White dots appeared at the centre of the screen and then raced outwards towards the borders, growing in size.  Like a nineties computer, a space screensaver had started, and stars were trying to light the room.

It made things even more romantic, in Akko’s opinion.  Sure, they were digital rather than real stars, but it was enough light to see the features of Diana’s face.  Her eyes, blinking in this new light.  Her cheeks, flushed from the growing intensity of the kisses.  And her lips – the object of Akko’s focus – twitching impatiently.

“ _Akko,_ ” she said.

Just a single word, whispered, but it had such an intense effect on Akko.  It sounded so needy, and it was so unexpected and so hot that Akko didn’t hesitate.  She launched forward again, this time pushing Diana flat onto the couch.  The kiss that followed more closely resembled their first kiss, when Akko had been ready to burn Diana’s house down, than any of the intimate ones they had shared in the last few minutes.

And this time, Akko opened her mouth, and it was her tongue, not her finger, that met Diana’s tongue.

 

* * *

 

Akko didn’t want to go any further.  Like the kiss, she wanted to take things slow – maybe for a combination of reasons, though nervousness ranked high – and when she found her hands starting to wander under clothing, she had to stop herself.

If the trend had continued, there would have been no resistance on Diana’s part, and as much it pleased Akko’s imagination, her goal was a normal relationship.

“That was... wow.”  Diana leaned back on the couch and frowned.  “I can’t believe I started to question what you meant by ‘like’.”

“Eh?”

“I believe last time we watched a movie, I gave you plenty of opportunity.”

“No you didn’t.  You were drunk.”

“Your point is?”

“That’s kinda not good.”

“Kinda not good,” Diana echoed.  “Like, oh, _I don’t know_ , how I sexually assaulted you when you were in an emotionally fragile state and planning to burn my house down?  No need to pretend you’re suddenly a saint.”

“I just don’t want to screw this up,” Akko said, smiling.  “Though it’s weird to think that wasn’t our first kiss.”

“The first one didn’t count.  There were exceptional circumstances.”

“Me,” Akko said proudly.

“As I said.  Exceptional.  However, you had better not tell anyone about it.”

“Or what?” Akko taunted.

Diana ran a finger through her messed up hair.  “Or I’ll never let you touch my hair again.”

Though it was probably an empty threat, ‘probably’ wasn’t enough to risk it – not that she was planning on telling anyone about that day in the first place.  It was her memory, and hers alone, to look back on with a shameful pleasure.  

“You’re so mean,” Akko said, leaning into her.  It was laughable that she’d been so self-conscious about cuddling before.

“I’m not asking you to forget our first kiss – it would be a pointless endeavour.  Besides, this was more than enough to make up for it.”

 

* * *

 

“A festival?  I don’t know,” Akko said.  “It feels reckless.  Three days before something’s about to go down, and you want to go have fun?”

“ _I_ think it would be a good idea,” Lotte said.  “We don’t know what will happen the day after tomorrow.  The government might back off, delay, change their mind, or anything – but it also could be our last chance to relax and have fun.  It’s the last warm weekend of the year.  You can invite Diana, too.”

“I don’t know.”

“I know you miss her.”

“Of course I don’t,” Akko snorted, looking around her tiny apartment.  “It’s only been two hours since I moved out.  I’m fine.  Completely fine.”

“Okay,” Lotte said into the hanging silence.  “You’re fine.  Then don’t invite her, but we’re still going.  If not for you, then for me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the outset, this story was supposed to be a lighthearted and fluffy coffee shop AU, but unexpected stuff happened.  The conflict (and fire) thus won’t have the time to be resolved here.  The rest deserves a sequel.  That being said, the remaining chapters are light on plot.


	34. Night Fall

The festival was a large event.

A thirty-minute drive out of the capital, makeshift signs started to warn of the turnoff, and then there was a couple minute drive into the forest, on a dirt road, to the parking lot.  Many people congregated in this area, waiting for their friends and family, but Diana led them beyond this field.  She didn’t slow to appreciate the lanterns lighting their path, and she passed by those who did without pause.

This was the most excited she’d ever seen Diana, Barbara mused.

In time, booths began lining the path.  For being so far out of town, there were lots of people.  Many were dressed in traditional Japanese clothing, but Barbara had refrained from such attire.  Not because she would have felt like a fake (in fact, she _wanted_ to try one on) but because she had a job to do, and didn’t need clothing to get in the way.

As the crowd grew in size, the three of them fell in line.  Flanked by innumerable paper lanterns hanging on rope above their heads, they pressed forward.  There was plenty of food and merchandise, but Diana didn’t seem to care.  She was a girl on a mission, much like Barbara and Hannah.  But Barbara’s mission was covert, whereas the other two weren’t as subtle.  She kept her eyes peeled as she walked alongside her friends.

Seeing the flames of a nearby grill distracted her momentarily.  How big of a fire threat was all this? she wondered.  Did the festival get the proper permits?  And the poor animals.  The amount of garbage left behind, even after cleanup, would be atrocious for the local wildlife.  Occasionally, she found herself looking into the trees of the forest, expecting to find a deer watching them with a sad face.  But she didn’t even know what a sad deer looked like, which ended up confusing her.

Barbara’s father was a lands resource specialist, and his worries had inevitably rubbed off on her.  But this wasn’t all bad.  He had passed along some of his skills too, as a recreational hunter.  Today, Barbara’s gun expertise would pay off.  She wondered what Diana and Hannah would think, if they knew her true mission.

They passed booth after booth, and the smells were delicious – the perfect temptation for bears – but Barbara ignored all the food-related places.  They were irrelevant.  She had more important matters to handle.  Hunger would have to get in line, if it wanted a piece of her.

 _There it is_.  The online forums had been going crazy about it since noon.  It was five pm now, and though the stall drew more attention than neighbouring games, she knew most of the business had happened earlier that day.  Everyone had already given up.  Now, it was her turn.  At the counter was a single BB gun.  The challenge put her at an advantage.  Barbara wasn’t hopeless with a gun, like so many other Night Fall fans.  Every winter, her father took her out hunting with Rhubarb, their English Springer Spaniel.  Although she would refuse to shoot deer or other large animals, she usually bagged herself a few grouse early in the season, or pheasants later in the winter.

The prize shelf was filled with an assortment of items – some valuable, too, like phones and game consoles – but her eyes could only see the book on the top shelf.  A signed copy of Night Fall volume 364.   _A signed copy_.  The only other signed copy she owned was volume one hundred and four, and that had been because she had bought forty tickets for a grand prize draw years ago.  This one wasn’t going to go to any lucky girl – it would take skill to win.

Ten feet away from the counter was a series of four targets.  The first one was unmissable – its diameter was almost equal to her height – but the next three targets quickly shrank in size, until the fourth one, which was the size of a tea biscuit.  The line of girls – most younger than her, but she didn’t care – was dwindling as failed contestants walked away gritting their teeth or whining to their friends.  Barbara couldn’t feel sorry for the ones whining to their friends, because at least they had friends to talk about Night Fall with.  Sometimes online discussions just didn’t fill the gap.

Barbara stopped.  “I have to tie my shoe,” she said.  “Go on without me.  I’ll meet you at the hill.”

Diana and Hannah stopped, too, and the former looked down at Barbara’s shoes.  Planned well in advance, her laces were indeed loose.  

“We’ll wait,” Diana said.  “It would be an inconvenience if we got separated and couldn’t find each other again.”

Diana was too nice, and Barbara floundered for an excuse.  Surprisingly, she didn’t need one.

“We have phones, Diana,” Hannah said.  “Don’t be silly.  We won’t get separated.  Now, let’s go.”

Hannah took Diana’s hand – a surprisingly aggressive move that caught Diana off guard – and pulled her along.  In seconds, the crowd enveloped them and Barbara was alone.  

Silently, she thanked Hannah.  Usually Hannah was meek and accepting of Diana’s decisions, but for some reason she’d taken control of the situation today.   _Ah_ , but it was obvious.  The reason they had come in the first place.  Diana had made a new friend, and Hannah’s curiosity was insatiable.

In all honesty, it _was_ a slightly curious event.  Not a work friend, Diana had said, and not a boyfriend, either (though Hannah didn’t seem to believe this).  It was a girl who had stayed a few nights at Diana’s place because she had been displaced from her home.  But that was about as much as Diana would say, and this seemed to greatly bother Hannah, as though she were afraid she would be replaced by the new girl, and the trio would become Dianna, Barbara, and Akko.  That was a laughable notion, and Barbara had said as much – if anyone were to be replaced, it would be herself – she didn’t even live in the same town as them – but Hannah was a worrywart, and this festival was an opportunity to meet the new challenger.

Barbara finished tying her shoes – something she’d spent a long time on, just in case they had decided to return – and then she approached the booth, whose line had emptied in the past few minutes.  The guy manning the both was surprisingly young – or maybe she was just too accustomed to all the older gentlemen – and he had a Cheshire cat grin as she approached, as if he knew exactly what she wanted and knew she stood no chance at getting it.  Nobody did, with the size of the last target.  But still, she paid, and took hold of the gun.  It was heavy.  Beyond hunting rifles, she didn’t know guns well, but knew this was much heavier than it should have been, as if weights were hidden inside.

Well.  That was actually pretty likely.

After struggling for a minute to hold it level, she realized she would tire her arms out before even taking a single shot.  The strategy needed to be aim quick and fire quick.  Someone had mentioned that on the forums.  Amazingly, when she pulled the trigger, she heard the _ting_ of the first target.

“Good shot,” the man said.  He had no reason to worry, yet.

And he was right.  She failed all three shots on the second target.

“Close,” he said.  “Now that you have a feel for the gun, why not give it another go?”

Even without his bait, she would have.  Her card was stocked with one hundred e-coins (no more – she knew she needed a hard limit), and she wouldn’t leave until she had the book or an empty card.  Fortunately, she had come at a good time and nobody had entered the line while she’d been shooting.  There was no time pressure.  Focus.  Breath in, breath out.  Lightly pull the trigger.  Easier said than done, she thought glumly.  The tips online had seemed so positive and encouraging only an hour ago.

After her fifth failed attempt, she took a break.  Her best had resulted in hitting the second target on her third try.  She wasn’t getting any better, and nearly ten minutes had passed.  Diana and Hannah would definitely be suspicious by now, but that didn’t matter.  Despite what Hannah had said, there would be no texts to distract her.  Barbara had left her phone at home.

Attempt six, seven, and eight were spectacular failures, much like her very first attempt.  Nine, ten, and eleven, the man had stopped encouraging her.  Twelve, thirteen, and fourteen, the man’s grin subsided.  Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, the man grew sombre.  There were only three attempts left.  The Night Fall volume on the top shelf mocked her.  She felt rightfully ashamed – both of this childish desperation, and her own incompetence.  Her eyes watered, but it would have been even more shameful to cry, so she blinked tears back, swallowed the feeling of dread, and faced the targets again.

“Are you trying for the book?”

Barbara turned around, a denial on her lips, and for a second, she thought that a lantern had hopped off its chain, morphed into a person, and spoken to her.

But then she realized it was a short, freckled girl who was watching her.  Her hair was short and orange, and she was dressed in a modest orange yukata in the same shade of orange as all the paper lanterns.  The wind had caught her yukata and blew it in such a way that she seemed larger than life, and her eyes, gentle as they were, shone with interest.

“Not anymore,” Barbara said.

Like she was a gambler shocked out of day-long compulsive spree.  Suddenly, even though she had three attempts left, she knew she couldn’t carry on.  It was defeat.  Recognize it, take a step back, and reflect on the mistakes she’d made – namely, wasting eighty-five e-coins.  Barbara took a step away from the shooting range.

The orange girl was odd.

It had been a fleeting thought at first, but it came back stronger when the girl walked past her, paid the attendant, and picked up the gun.  Before Barbara could decide to watch – as though the pain of her own failures were already forgotten – there were two _tings_ .  Two targets down.  Barbara squinted to watch the third target.  It was getting dark and this wasn’t an easy task.  Somehow, she knew she would hear the _ting_ before it even happened.  The man at the booth crossed his arms.

The girl took aim at the last target – something so small that, ten feet away, it was hard to see.  The pellets of the gun itself were so light that even the wind would push any shot off course enough to miss.  And, in fact, as the girl stood stock still with her gun aimed, a gust of wind blew.  Another thought came to Barbara – not a lantern this time, but the sun.  Orange hair tousled by the wind, like solar flares from the sun, and though Barbara should have been fascinated by the gun and the target – the prize – she ended up watching the girl’s intent face.

 _Ting_.

“ _Wuh_ ,” the man said.  He recovered quickly, adopting his earlier jovial tone.  “Wow!  Congratulations!  You can choose a prize from any three of the shelves.”

“Night Fall,” the girl said.

He pulled it down – the action reverent, almost like it was a bible.  Opening the cover, he looked at the signature and ran a finger down the page.  Then, he closed it and handed it to her.  “Again, congratulations.  That’s some of the finest shooting I’ve ever seen – and some of the best luck.”

The girl tilted her head, as though confused, but then smiled.  “Thank you,” she said.

The orange girl was odd.  It was a conclusion based in murky facts.  She was a good shooter, obviously, but she was also someone who kept conjuring up images of lanterns and suns and warmth, and the way she spoke and moved was so graceful yet calculated that it seemed only fit for a goddess.

“Here.”

She was the opposite of Night Fall.  She was Sun Rise.  She was dawn.  She was a new light; a sudden brightness when tears and defeat threatened.  Her mannerisms were normal and abnormal, and her strength and confidence was shown with her supernatural handling of the gun, and Barbara wanted to know her name.

“Hello?”

Most confusing of all was her voice: so innocent.  Like a young girl who had never touched a weapon any more dangerous than a water gun.  She was-

Night Fall bonked Barbara on the head.

“Anyone home?” the girl said.

“Wha- uh- oh- hi,” Barbara sputtered.  If any of her friends had heard such hopelessness coming out of her mouth, she would have been mortified.  But it was fine in front of this girl.  Probably anything was fine.  That was the feeling she got.

“Here,” the girl said, holding out the book.

Barbara took it instinctively.  Night Fall volume 364, signed by Annabel Crѐme.  The three hundred and sixty-four page hardcover book was heavy in her hands.  One of a hundred signed copies in the entire world, and it was on her person.

This realization should have brought her to her knees, but instead all she could do was acknowledge that the sun was leaving.

“Wait!” Barbara shouted.

Barbara _never_ shouted.  That was undignified.  No, she spoke words loudly and clearly.  The girl turned around.  For a moment, it looked like she was annoyed, but then it was all innocent smiles.

“Thank you,” Barbara said.  “What’s your name?”

“Lotte.”

“My name is Barbara.”

She paused.  Where was she supposed to go from here?  This wasn’t how things were usually done.  Night was falling and it was both weird and comforting.

“You’re a really good shot,” she tried.

Lotte returned.  “I know.”  She leaned closer, bringing a hand to her mouth as though to share a secret.  “The booth attendant said I was lucky, but there wasn’t any luck involved.”

It didn’t come off as bragging, but rather an absolute confidence.  Few people could talk like that without lowering Barbara’s estimation of them.  And those words shared in a whisper, as though a secret, seemed to bring them closer together.

“Why are you giving the book to me?” she said.

“I already have a copy, and it’s not like I need another.”  Lotte paused to rub her neck.  Then she laughed gently.  “This is embarrassing to say, but I’ve been struggling with something in my life, and seeing you try so hard... it was really inspiring.  I felt like I owed you, for reminding me what it’s like to be determined.”

Barbara was caught off guard.  It was impossible not to feel flattered by such honest words.  She hadn’t been thinking anything along those lines when she was challenging the game.  If anything, she had been afraid of embarrassing herself.  But Lotte did not judge.  Even if she had been watching Barbara from the very start, Lotte was too nice to judge.  Barbara had to fight herself for a moment, so she wouldn’t start fangirling over volume three sixty-four, no matter how good it was, because someone not judging was not an excuse to act like a little girl.

“But this is a _signed_ copy,” Barbara said, both holding out the book and knowing it wouldn’t make a difference.  “It’s extremely valuable, and that value will only increase as time passes.  Even if you don’t need it, you can keep it and sell it later.”

Lotte pushed the book back into her hand.  “You misunderstand me.  When I said I already have a copy, I meant I have a signed copy.”

“What?  How?” Barbara said, her voice rising an octave.

“And I think it would be unfair to have two, when there are so many people who would treasure it,” Lotte said, ignoring Barbara’s questions.  “Demand can’t be met, when supply is hoarded.”

That was a quote from Edgar, at the end of the novel, and Barbara had to take a moment to subdue her fangirling and compose herself.  “That’s very wise of you,” she said.

“I try my best,” Lotte smiled.  “Night Fall isn’t for us to make a profit.  It’s for us to enjoy.  Oh, and if you don’t mind me asking, what do you do for a living?”

Barbara didn’t make unseemly sounds like _huh_ , or _uh_ , so she stared in silence for a moment – the question seemed a little off, considering their conversation, but it couldn’t hurt to answer, right?

“I’m an undergrad at Oxford University,” she said.

Lotte looked around at the nearby trees.  “A student?”  She pulled out her phone and glanced at it.  “Sorry, I have to get going.  Bye.”

And then the sun was gone, and it was night.

 

* * *

 

In a sort of daze, Barbara walked the festival grounds.  She was split between wanting to run into Lotte again, and wanting to stay far away.  The jarring end to their meeting had left a bad taste in her mouth, like she had been judged, and, as a student, failed.  Of course, that was impossible, since Lotte did not judge.  This contradiction was enough to distract her from her surroundings.

Someone latched onto her, and she instinctively clutched her purse tighter, as if it was a thief who wanted Night Fall.

“Barbara, there you are!” Hannah said, swinging around to stop in front of her.  “I thought you would be closer to the entrance.”

“It doesn’t take that long to tie my shoes,” Barbara said.

“No, only fifteen minutes.”

“I’m sorry.  You probably thought I got lost.”

“It’s fine,” Hannah said.  “It’s not like you can actually get lost here – it’s not that big, and besides, you have your cellphone.”

Hannah’s gaze dropped to Barbara’s purse, which did not contain a cellphone.  It didn’t contain any Internet access or money, aside from the preallocated one hundred e-coins.  Safety precautions.  Logical, since whenever Night Fall was taken off the bookshelf, logic was shelved.  Barbara turned to face a nearby stall, hiding her purse.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Hannah said into the silence.

“It’s only a two-hour tube ride away.  Besides, I usually make it every other weekend, to visit family.”

“You should us visit more.  It beats chatting online.”

Barbara half nodded.  She had been thinking along those lines, too.

“Let’s check the festival out,” Hannah suggested.  “Are you hungry?”

“What about Diana?” Barbara said.  “Shouldn’t we hurry back?”

“She’s with her new friend.”

“Isn’t that all the more reason?  I thought you were worried about the new girl.”

“No.  Not anymore.  She’s... I don’t know.  Not a threat?  I don’t want to disparage her, saying that, but it’s what I feel, after meeting her.  If it makes sense, I think there are different kinds of friends.  The roles we play in each other’s lives... that sort of thing.  And Akko seems to fill a role we don’t.  Diana is happy about this, so I don’t mind.”

Barbara immediately understood.  It was like how she couldn’t talk to Diana and Hannah about Night Fall.  There was always a void present – a gap unfillable by old friends – and this had manifested itself in a desire to make a new friend, only minutes ago.

“I get it,” Barbara said.  “But we should still rejoin them.”

“I think Diana wanted some time alone with Akko.  She suggested we explore the festival without her, and meet up for the fireworks later.”

They did a thorough job of checking out the festival’s stalls.  This started out problematic for Barbara, since, to avoid temptation, she had avoided bringing all forms of money except the hundred e-coins for the shooting game.  When Hannah wanted to visit this and that and everything in between, it was hard to excuse herself.  The bathroom trick only worked once.  But somehow, it had gotten in Hannah’s mind that she needed to treat Barbara to everything, and, as embarrassing as it was, once this was decided, she was finally able to relax.

The bad taste she’d had from the abrupt end to her meeting with the strangest stranger was gone, and she was able to enjoy herself as Hannah treated her to a variety of Japanese foods that neither of them had had before.

The goldfishing stand was closed, with rumours floating around about some weirdo who contaminated the water, so that took a good ten minutes off their route.  With the fireworks still less than half an hour off, they finally began making their way to the hill.  Hundreds of people were already there.  It looked weird, approaching, because everyone was sitting on blankets on the ground, their faces illuminated by cellphones and flashlights.

This sight was a little too distracting, and she ended up tripping on a rock.  On her way down, she succeeded in grabbing Hannah, as a last act of desperation, but this went about as expected, and they both fell.  Barbara surprised herself with her athleticism.  She was at least able to swing Hannah aside to act as a cushion as they hit the ground.  They hit the ground with a complete lack of grace, and Barbara’s breath was knocked out of her, but at least it was too dark for anyone nearby to see the spectacle.

Hannah rolled off her with a grunt.

“I’m so sorry,” Barbara said, scrambling to sit up.  Her hip was in pain, but her idiocy took priority.  “Are you hurt?”

“Aside from an inevitable bruise, no.”

Barbara waited a few seconds, but there was no movement on her friend’s part.  “Are you sure?”

“The grass is soft and the stars are bright.”

Unbidden, Barbara laid back down.  It was a far cry from the blanket that was their destination, but she wouldn’t argue it wasn’t comfortable.

“You did this once before,” Hannah said.

“I did?”

“Year ten, school camping trip.  We were walking back from the river in the dark.”

“I remember, now.  I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“My eyes aren’t good in the dark.”

“Do you remember Diana’s reaction, when we got back?”

Barbara thought back to it.  They had been half limping and dishevelled.  It had been after a rainfall, so the grass had been wet, too.  In silence, with shirts wet and covered in mud and blades of grass, they had reentered the tent where Diana had been reading (bringing a textbook camping was something only she would do).

Barbara chuckled.  “She had been utterly convinced we had gotten into a fight, and was worried we weren’t going to be friends anymore.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re too nice.”

“If it’s a rate of one take-down every four years, I can handle.”

“That’s an interesting way of looking at it.”

They sat up.  Only then did Barbara realize that she’d completely forgotten about her purse.  Her signed copy of Night Fall had fallen out, and was sitting in plain view.  She dove towards it, quickly shoving it back into her purse.  Hannah gave her a weird look, but thankfully hadn’t seen anything.

The rest of the walk was short, and they walked side by side, Hannah lighting the way with her cellphone (because Barbara’s was low on battery).  They found Diana – her pale blue yukata making her stand out.  There was a girl next to her in a white yukata (Akko, she wondered?), eating what looked to be a fully peeled apple.  On this girl’s lap, another girl was resting.

“How – how is this supposed to help?” Diana said, her voice agitated.

The apple-eater swallowed and looked over.  “Huh?  Why would we help her?  She wants to kill us.”

“But – but she’s your friend!”

Barbara sped up, while Hannah slowed down.  Something seemed very, very wrong.  Someone wanted to kill them?  Had she heard that right?

Even as she got closer, she couldn’t make sense of it, but somehow, the scene seemed like it came out of a movie.  The evil witch eating an apple, and the poisoned princess, unconscious on her lap.  This weird image explained itself as Barbara got close enough to identify the sleeping girl.  It was Lotte – the only person in the world who knew of her Night Fall obsession – the only girl who was capable of drawing up metaphors of lanterns, stars, and Goddesses (and, apparently, Disney princesses).  And if Lotte was here, that meant she was friends with Akko who was friends with Dianna who was friends with Barbara.  How many degrees of separation was that?

Barbara let out a strangled yelp as her two lives came crashing together.


	35. Quizz Time

Hannah didn’t say anything, but her steps seemed heavier as they moved on.  She had dropped Diana’s hand once the booths had thinned out and they were approaching the fireworks viewing field.

“Is something the matter?” Diana said.

“Barbara wasn’t being very subtle.”

Diana looked back, but there was nothing to see except the crowd of people.  “She was acting a little odd.”   _But you, as well_ , she thought.

“Didn’t you see the stall she stopped at?  Its grand prize was a signed copy of Night Fall.”

“Night Fall?”

“She thinks it’s a big secret and won’t tell us she reads them.  I just wish she wasn’t so embarrassed about it.”

“Night Fall?” Diana repeated, trying to prompt an explanation.

“I mean, sure, I don’t like it, but I’m not going to bother her about it.  There’s no reason to hide it from friends.”

“I see,” Diana said, though she did not.

And then she stopped moving because she did see something.

Ahead of them, something unexpectedly heart-stopping.  At the end of the lantern-lit path, there was a traditional Japanese gate, painted red.  Underneath it stood Akko.  She was adorned in a beautiful red yukata, with swirling floral designs in yellow and orange.  And for a moment, she looked like a refined young lady – someone Hannah would approve of – and then she noticed Diana.  Her hands, which had been at rest a moment earlier, had lost the illusion of grace and were now raised and waving enthusiastically.  For a moment, it looked like she was going to run towards them, but the yukata prevented such movement, and instead she stumbled forward and stopped, seeming to come to the conclusion that waiting would be less disastrous than rushing.

Surprisingly, she was alone.  Lotte and Sucy were both unaccounted for, as well as the three other friends Akko had said would be present.  For a selfish moment, Diana wished Hannah had remained behind with Barbara.  And she also wished she’d brought her camera.  It wouldn’t quite match the apron pictures (which Akko had foolishly thought she’d deleted every copy of), but it would rank a close second.

“Is that her?”

“Yes,” Diana said, a little distracted.

When Hannah didn’t respond, Diana looked over and groaned.  She was gone.  

Hannah had claimed it was too short notice to get herself a yukata, but in truth it was probably because she wanted to be able to run.  Which she was now doing.  Towards Akko.  A short second later, Akko realized she was being charged down, and abruptly stopped waving.

This should have been avoided, but it was too late now.  Two strong personalities were about to clash, and Diana didn’t know what the outcome would be, or even what she wanted it to be.

It started with Hannah slowing – thank God – and circling Akko, like a shark on its prey or a border collie trying to round up its herd.  At first, Akko tried to keep eye-contact, and begin turning around in circles, but then the dizziness must have onset, because she stopped quickly enough.  She was _um-ing_ , _uh-ing_ , and _er-ing_ the entire time, having remembered Diana’s advice not to make unrefined sounds for all of five seconds.

Hannah finally stopped circling and looked her up and down.  “Height?”

“Five three.”  Akko straightened her back and took on a serious expression, as though she knew what was going to happen.  Diana knew very well what was going to happen, but had completely forgotten to warn Akko.  There was no way this would end pretty.

“Weight?” Hannah fired.

“Forty-six kilograms.”

“Favourite food?”

“Steak.”

“Favourite drink?”

“Milk.”

“Favourite colour?”

“Red.”

“Favourite animal?”

“Echidna.”

“Favourite book?”

“Fahrenheit 451.”

“Season?”

“Autumn.”

“Day of the week?”

“Thursday.”

“Music genre?”

“Pop.”

“Movie genre?”

“Action.”

Hannah took a breath.  “Very well, then.  Let us begin.  Your name?”

 _Shouldn’t that have been the first question?_ Diana wondered.

“Akko.”

“I asked for your name – your full name,” Hannah said.  “Not what your parents use when they call you for dinner.”

It was unintentional.  Hannah didn’t know.  Still, Diana winced.  Akko didn’t have the easiest life, and all of Diana’s friends... well, they did.  For Akko to face someone like this, after struggling just to find an apartment to live in, it would be a harsh reminder of how unfair life was.  Even if constant failures didn’t visibly affect Akko, Diana couldn’t help but wonder how much pain was hiding underneath her happy exterior.  And that, in part, was probably what made Akko so determined to protect Rastavan.  It had been her uncle’s, and now hers, and it was threatening to disappear forever.

At first, Akko blinked – dumbfounded, probably – and then, as subtle as it was, she relaxed.  A decision had been made.  Probably not a good sign.

“Akko is my name,” she said.

“That’s not how you make friends,” Hannah declared.  “Creating a false sense of closeness by asking someone to call you by your nickname only works if they know your actual name, _and_ have a choice in the matter.  You’re not leaving me any choice, which, quite frankly, is rude.  But I digress.  Names aren’t really that important.  Rather, the stars are more telling.  Tell me your birthday and birthyear.”

“June fifteenth, 1997.”

There was a moment of silence from Hannah.  “Same age as Diana.  Fire Ox.  I see.  No compatibility problems there, however...  I recommend you stop eating steak, no matter much you may like it.  Cannibalism isn’t wise.”

“Are you calling me a cow?” Akko exploded.

“Yes.  Specifically, a castrated male cow.  But you should refrain from consuming _any_ bovine products.  That includes milk.  Respect your zodiac animal.”

“Wha – milk?”  Akko gave her a look like she was some alien descended to earth to steal all her cows.  “You can’t seriously expect me to stop drinking milk, can you?”

“Yes, I do expect.”

“Well – well I expect you to stop expecting.”

“You’re Cancer.”

“What did you just call me?” Akko demanded.

“Cancer.”

“Well, I’ll have you know-”

“Akko,” Diana interceded.  At this point, she was pretty sure Hannah was being intentionally obtuse.  “Let her finish.”

“The Crab,” Hannah continued.  “A negative sign – of earth and water.  And, see, this is why I don’t like using the Western Zodiac.  The Crab is Water, but you’re so obviously Fire.”

In an instantaneous change, Akko smiled.  “Why, thank you.”

“And now it all feels mixed up, because Diana is Taurus – Earth element – and I’m left wondering if it makes any sense.  Does Diana ground you in reality, at all?”

“Uh, yeah,” Akko smirked.

“Oh, she does?  Good.”  Hannah took a step back.  “Maybe this will help, after all.”

Akko stole a look at Diana.  “But isn’t this for, like, romantic relationships?”

“Nonsense,” Hannah said.  “It’s a good indicator for any relationship.  How do you think Diana and I get along so well?  Because I know what to look out for.  Oh, and Diana, don’t let Akko emotionally manipulate you.  She’s good at that.”

“Am not.”

“You question the stars?” Hannah said with an unprecedented intensity.

And if this was just because Diana and Akko were friends, she was dreading Hannah ever discovering their relationship was more.

“Moving on, then,” Hannah said.  “Occupation?”

Akko made a sour face.  She’d gotten an apartment with concerted pestering, but no job as far as Diana knew.  “Unemployed.”

Hannah directed a meaningful glance at Diana.  “Education?”

“Uh,” Akko began, and it occurred to Diana that she had not completed high school.

“ _Uh_?” Hannah challenged.  “I see that may have been too difficult of a question.  Something easier, then?  Hobbies?”

“Burning stuff.”

This was the moment.  It had been said with a different tone.  Akko had had enough.  Being called a fire ox wasn’t enough to make up for all Hannah’s other transgressions.  In all honesty, Diana had been more worried about Akko’s friends meeting her friends, not Akko herself.  She had foolishly thought Akko would be capable of

(It was somewhere around then that Diana noticed Akko’s yukata was not red with floral designs.  It was red with swirling _flame_ patterns around the hem.)

“What kind of hobby is that?” Hannah said.

In a frighteningly quick move, Akko had a flame between them.  “A fun one.”

“Put the lighter away,” Diana said, finally interceding.

“Diana,” Hannah said, holding up a hand as if to stop her.  “I would like to speak with Akko alone, if you don’t mind.”

“I do not think that would be a good idea.”

“Please?”

Akko nodded.  This small action was a relief, because a shrug would have been so much more fitting, here.  A shrug was indifference, and a nod meant there would be an attempt at salvaging the situation.

“Very well, then,” Diana said.  She looked around at the nearby stalls.  “I’ll have a quick look around.  Come find me when you’re done.”

 

* * *

 

Hannah was perplexed.

A girl who went simply by ‘Akko’, who wasn’t employed and had questionable education – not to mention something about fires – was friends with Diana.  Now, Hannah was proud to be Diana’s friend, because that implied a sort of quality to her that said she wasn’t a loser or an idiot or anything of the sort, and she valued this.  Self-confidence was important, and being able to look at herself and be proud of who she was helped greatly in that regard.

Faults were what offset confidence, and everyone had their faults.  For Barbara, it was her love of Night Fall, unrealistic, immature, and time-consuming.  For Hannah, she knew her astrology was irrational.  The only reason she kept returning to it was because it had never ceased to prove useful.  In Diana’s case, it was harder to pinpoint.  There wasn’t a single obvious fault, but it was more a variety of smaller things, which, in the long run, blurred into nothingness and made her seem perfect.  Things like her terrible alcohol tolerance, her reliance on adhering to a schedule, and her inability to make friends.

And that was how things worked.

But Akko.   _Akko_.  If their two-minute interview was any basis, she was different.  In contrast to Diana’s many subtle flaws, Akko had been blessed with many large ones.  This meant, obviously, that Akko was not a threat.  Therefore, Hannah logically concluded it would be fine to lower her guard; Diana would never replace her with Akko.  And now that this threat was dismissed, she had other things to investigate.

“Diana was vague on the details,” Hannah said.  “How did you two meet?”

“In a coffee shop,” Akko said.

“Do you have a brother?”

“Not that I know of.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“No.”

“I don’t know why you didn’t say that in the first place, but fine.  More importantly, Diana told me a couple weeks ago that she has a crush on someone.  Do you know who it is?”

“Uh.”

“Have you two ever went to the bar?  Has she ever struck up a conversation with a guy in your presence?”

“No.”

“A coffee shop, you said.  What about the barista?”

“Uh.”

“But she must have met him through you,” Hannah insisted.  “She never goes out, and then she meets you, and all of a sudden – and – and all of a sudden...”

Now, wasn’t _that_ jumping to conclusions? Hannah wondered.  Did she have to apply logic, or intuition, in a case such as this?  Could the stars shed some insight on it, or would a theory such as _that_ be too far-fetched and a waste of time?

“Oh!” Akko exclaimed.  “Actually I remember now there’s this one guy at the coffee shop who Diana has spoken with him a few times and he always has his laptop and he says he’s writing a book.”

Hannah nearly laughed aloud.  Of course it was a customer at the coffee shop.  A novelist, too.  “Do you know his name?”

“Uh.  Wire?”

“Wire?  What kind of name is that?  Are you sure he’s not a friend of yours?”

“Now that I think about it, he might be.”

Hannah nodded slowly, trying to piece together this information.  Either Akko’s head was a mess, or she was making things up on the spot.  Neither seemed like a good attribute in a friend, and Hannah couldn’t understand how Diana, of all people, had decided to associate with someone like _this_.

“Still,” Hannah said, vocalizing the rest of her thoughts.  “I’m glad you were there for her.  She told me you spent a few nights at her place.  I didn’t want her sleeping alone – not after what happened.”

“Eh?”  Akko tilted her head, seemingly puzzled.  “What happened?”

“The break-in,” Hannah clarified.  Maybe there was something wrong with Akko’s long-term memory.  “She did tell you about it, right?  I know she tried to keep it quiet, but it’s not like she could keep it a secret from us.  Some creep broke into her house and was caught red-handed trying to burn it down.”

“Oh... right.”

“I can’t believe how brave Diana was, to confront him.  What if he had a gun, or knife?  Actually, he probably did, and she’s just unwilling to admit to it.  By the way, why exactly were you staying with her?  You’re not from out of town, are you?”

“Oh, that’s because I burned my place down.”

“Why-”  Hannah stopped mid-sentence.  Her eyes narrowed.  “Come again?”

“I burned my place down.”

“How did you manage something as stupid as that?”

“It was pretty easy, actually.  Just some gasoline and a lighter – the usual tools.  Though a friend helped, with some mystery chemicals that I haven’t thought to ask about yet.”

“This was... intentional?”

What followed was a longer-than-acceptable pause, in which Hannah noticed a coincidence.  Akko’s place had burned down the day after Diana’s had been targeted.  She couldn’t make sense of that, but it became obvious that Diana, after nearly experiencing her the loss of her own house, had empathized with and helped Akko.

“No?” Akko finally said.

“Was that a question?”

“Uh.  Don’t be silly.  Of course not.”

Hannah looked around, spotting Diana at a nearby stall with a display of masks.  “I’m glad we clarified some things, but we shouldn’t keep Diana waiting.”

Akko was gone before she was even done speaking, and a few seconds later, Diana had been pulled back.

“Is everything alright?” she asked tentatively.

“As fine as can be,” Akko said.

“Good.  Hannah, why don’t you go get Barbara?” Diana said.  “I was in a hurry not to be late, so we passed some stalls she looked interested in.  You could take her around.”

Hannah looked at Akko and Diana.  It was a miracle they were friends.  Or maybe not – the stars hadn’t forbidden it.  But at the moment, Hannah’s curiosity towards Akko was quelled, and now she wanted to see how Barbara was doing.  The shooting game had looked near impossible.

“Okay,” Hannah said, nodding.  “That sounds like a good idea.”

“We’re set up at the far end of the field, near the tree-line at the top.  Come find us when you’re done,” Akko shouted as she dragged Diana off.

 

* * *

 

Diana didn’t complain about being dragged around because Akko was holding her hand.  She wanted some time alone with Akko, where she wasn’t stressing about everyone getting along, and, judging by Akko’s energy, she, too, wanted this time.

“Is everything _actually_ fine?” Diana said.

“Huh?”

“Regarding Hannah.”

“Oh.  Yeppers.  You wanna know what we were talking about, don’t you?  You’re curious.”

“No,” Diana said.  The swagger in Akko’s step increased, and she sighed.  “A bit.”

“I knew it!” Akko said.  “But sorry, no can say.   _Secrets_.  They’re secrets.”

Diana tried not to look puzzled, but probably failed, based on Akko’s taunting smile.  Unless they had already gotten to the point where Hannah was sharing every gaff Diana had ever made, there was no reason to be concerned.  Still, she was.

They left the path of lights in favour of a grassy field.  The hill was gently sloped, and people had already begun claiming spots for the fireworks show, but it was a wide area with plenty of grass still available.  Diana was only marginally paying attention, but as they passed a group of guys, she heard Akko make a noise.

“Now, I am aware this may sound absurd,” Diana said.  “But did you _hiss_ at those men?”

“Those axeholes were looking at you funny,” Akko whined.

Diana groaned.  “Please, call them sassholes.  I don’t need to be reminded of that night.”

Akko rubbed her chin.  “Okay.  Those sassholes were looking at you.”

Where did the ‘funny’ go?  And was Diana supposed to be flattered?  Because she kind of was.  But _still_.  “We are not animals,” she said.

“We’re oxes.”  Akko spun around, her yukata rippling from the movement.  “ _Fire_ oxes.  I think I like your friend.”

“ _Oxen._  And she doesn’t like you.”

“You’re totally misreading this.  We’re halfway to besties already.”  Akko laughed.  “But don’t be jealous.”

“I am not jealous.”

Akko moved in closer as they walked.  “Good.  Because I only have eyes for you.”

Diana bit back a retort.  There wasn’t much to say in response to a line like that.  Not without sounding unappreciative.

Their spot, as Akko had said, was in the far corner, at the top of the hill.  It was isolated from noisy (and nosy) neighbours, but also devoid of Akko’s friends.

“That’s weird,” Akko said.  “Lotte and Sucy should be here.  They left all our food and drinks unattended.”  She knelt down and checked their bags and backpacks.  “Well, no thieves came by, so I guess Amanda’s not here, yet.”

“I have never heard you mention Amanda’s name in a positive light.”

“And never will.”

“But she’s your friend?”

“No.”

“But you invited her?”

“I invited Constanze and Jasminka.  She’s just along for the ride.  Well, she’s driving, so not really, but you get what I mean.”

“I think I do,” Diana said.  They were _those_ kind of friends.  “Shall we sit?”

They did.  And they stared up at the sky.  The sun had set and the horizon had the barest of light.  It was romantic.  She wondered if Akko thought the same.

“Fireworks are still a bit aways,” Akko said.

“Do you want to check the festival out?”

“No.  Not now.  We should keep an eye on our stuff.”

That was the answer Diana had wanted to hear.  She reached out and took Akko’s hand, remembering a conversation she’d had with Lotte, awhile back.  They could start before the fireworks.

“Your hand is warm,” she said.

Akko laughed.  “Is that supposed to be some sort of corny pick-up line?”

“What?  N-no.”

“Oh.  That’s a shame, ‘cause I kinda really wanted to kiss you.”

“If that’s what you want, I wouldn’t be so rude as to deny you.”

“Really?” Akko turned to face her, a bright smile on her face.  “Well, then, don’t mind if I do.”

Despite the public setting, Akko didn’t hold back.

Considering the start of their last session, Akko initiated this kiss with a surprising intensity.  And, much quicker than last time, she brought her hands into use.  Whether Akko was aware of it or not, Diana loved the way she ran her fingers along Diana’s neck and into her hair.  Her ministrations were so tender and so addicting that Diana couldn’t resist.  Akko had the leeway to do as she pleased.

There was no way to know how far she would go, but it was a foregone conclusion that Diana wouldn’t be the one to stop.  It was possible that at any second, Hannah or Barbara or one of Akko’s friends would show up, and then she would have to deal with the fallout of one sort of disaster or another, but those seemed like distant threats, and not worth Diana’s attention.

Hopefully, this trend of her turning into putty at Akko’s hands wouldn’t continue forever, because it probably wasn’t good to be completely helpless – especially when things went further and she needed to reciprocate.  Besides, being in control was more familiar to her.

A beeping sound interrupted them before Akko’s hands could find their way past any clothing.  She pulled away and dug into her pocket to retrieve her phone.  A moment later, she growled.

“I’m going to kill her,” she said.

“What is it?”

“Amanda.  Looks like she got lost.”  Akko made a face.  “I need to go fetch her.”

“Now?” Diana said before she could stop herself.  The annoyance that had crept into her voice surprised.  This outing had been agreed to with the intention of having their friends meet, not making out like two hopeless lovebirds under the fireworks.

“I’m sorry,” Akko said, truly looking the part.

“Don’t be.  I understand.  Go.”

Akko took her hand and gently pressed her lips against it – an action at odds with what they were doing earlier.  “Please await my return, princess.  I shall slay the dragon and return for you.  I swear it upon my name-”  Akko stopped, her frustration seeming to double at that moment.

“Akko...” Diana whispered.

“A-anyways, I’ll be back quickly.  I promise.”

And then Diana was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I subtracted 16 (canon age) from 2013 (first film) to find Akko’s birthyear.  The resulting Ox worked out quite well.


	36. Greek Gods

Diana wasn’t alone for long.

Someone tapped her shoulder, startling her, and she turned.  It was Sucy.  Diana had a bad feeling – it was ever-present in the company of Sucy and Lotte, but it grew in leaps and bounds upon physical contact.

“I put something in her candy apple,” Sucy said, shoving forward a very contemplative Lotte.  “Keep an eye on her, will ya?”

“Something?” Diana said.  “Could you please be more specific?”

Sucy shrugged.  “Not really.  Probably better to be vague in this case.  Anyhoo, I still got stuff left to do.  I’ll be back shortly.  Good luck.”

Diana might have tried to argue, but the ‘good luck’ caught her off-guard and gave Sucy the time needed to escape.  She looked around for help, knowing it a futile effort.  Lotte was the only other person present, standing where Sucy had left her, staring off into the distance, unblinking.

Maybe it wasn’t fair, but Diana was already starting to form a negative opinion of Amanda.  If she hadn’t taken Akko away, then at least Diana wouldn’t be alone with Lotte.

“Are you going to sit down?” Diana said.

There was no response.  She might as well have been talking to a wall.  This was not how she had expected the evening to go.  After a while, Lotte took out her cellphone and began tapping away, entranced.  Diana hoped she would stay that way for the next few minutes, or however long it took before someone got back.

That hope died in the ugliest imaginable way.

“Hey, Diana,” Lotte said.  “I was just talking with my faeries, and I wanted to run something by you.”

“What is it?” Diana said.

In retrospect, she was lacking the necessary caution.  Lotte hadn’t been talking – she’d been silent since she’d been put in Diana’s care – and, to Diana’s knowledge, no good conversations ever followed ‘so I was just talking to my faeries’.

“Isn’t this all kinda fishy?” Lotte said.

“What is?”

“This festival.  It doesn’t align with our nation’s cultural history.  Was nobody even going to bring that up?  What is this festival celebrating?  Our rice fields?  Our cherry blossoms?  What in the world even is a yukata?  I’ve never heard of one until now, and suddenly everyone is wearing one.   _Even me_.  How did this happen?”

“I think we should appreciate the opportunity-”

“You’re right,” Lotte said.  “That’s small fry, in comparison to the big problem.”

“The big problem?” Diana asked.  She hadn’t been aware there was a big problem.

“Yes.  Ursula Callistis is a goddess.”

“ _Ah_.”  Just what had Sucy slipped her?  “Yes.  Indeed, that is a large problem.”

“Now don’t be going and dismissing it like I’m insane,” Lotte said.  The repetitive winking of her left eye was probably unintentional.  “That’s _rude_.  So, what do you think of Shooting Star for a vehicle?”

But Lotte _was_ insane.  Even before today.  (It was somewhere around then that Diana realized this was probably Sucy’s revenge for meddling with Akko’s friendships.)

Diana figured it was safest to entertain her until the effects of the poison apple wore off.  “I have never heard of such a model.  Who is the manufacturer?”

“I mean as a name.  Like Bob.”  She motioned to the air over her right shoulder.  “Or Joanna.”  Her left shoulder, this time.  “Or Diana.”  Diana, thankfully, this time.

“Who names their vehicle?”

“Not you, apparently,” Lotte said.  “Amanda’s vehicle is Shooting Star.  And just keep in mind that it was _Amanda_ , and not anyone else, who did the naming.  Because, when you think about it, it’s all so impossible and weird and – and – _and scary.”_

“How so?”

“Names,” Lotte said, as though that explained everything.  “Look at the names.  So we meet Chariot du Nord, a retired thief who now works for some super secret faction within the government, and that’s fine and all.  Nothing strange here, right?  Well, let’s delve into things before we come to that conclusion.  First – her first name.  As good of a place to start as any.   _Chariot_ .  Horse-powered vehicles used for war during the Bronze and Iron Ages, and later for entertainment, in races.  And it’s synonymous with wagon, which we’ll hear more of later.  But Chariot is also a Chinese constellation.  Okay, you don’t want Chinese?  Fine – that’s fine – though we will need to think Chinese later, let’s go to the most popular Romance language, French.  The Big Dipper – not actually a constellation, but an asterism – is known as _la Grande Casserole_ – yummy – or, _le Grand Chariot,_ in French – and then you remember she had a stage name, Shiny Chariot, during her bout as a magician.  And, y’know, stars are kinda shiny, and this is where her weird obsession starts to show itself.  But back to the Big Dipper – it just happens to be in the Ursa Major constellation, and on that note, let’s look at her new name, which she insists everyone call her, Ursula Callistis.  So her new first name’s root origin is in the two constellations, Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, and you realize she’s sorta referencing her real – or original – name.  Wordplay.  Cute, you might think.  But it’s not.  Far far from it, in fact.  Very uncute.  Remember all this for a minute, and consider her original surname, _du Nord_ .  Continuing in French, _du Nord_ means _of the north_ , roughly translated.  We’ll come back to this a lot – it’s like the keystone of the spider web, and she’s the black widow at the middle.

“So next comes Team Polaris, obviously named after the star Polaris.  Also known as Alpha Ursae Minoris – because it’s the brightest star in the Ursa Minor constellation – which I remind you contains the Big Dipper asterism – and, by the way, Ursa is bear in Latin – so you think maybe she’s a little conceited, naming the team after her real name – but here’s the kicker: why would Chariot be allowed the decision for the team name?  She had the least to offer, being the youngest, most inexperienced of the three of them.  And then you realize the star Polaris is known by other names, too, such as the North Star – and so you see, North is _Nord_ in French, so there’s the relation between her family’s surname – one she didn’t and couldn’t choose, unless she had divine powers – and Team Polaris.

“But then _hey_ , you say, whatever, and you foolishly decide to dismiss this.  Weird parents, weird child.  And just because Ursula has some connections to her original name doesn’t mean there’s anything weird about her last name, Callistis.  Quit freaking out over nothing.  But it’s _not_ nothing.  You clearly don’t know your Greek mythology.  Callistis is taken from Callisto, a nymph or the daughter of a King – depending on which variation of the myth you choose – and she was so pretty she attracted a bad-ass named Zeus – yeah, _him_ – who decided to play drag queen and dress himself up like Artemis to seduce Callisto – yeah, Callisto swung that way – and the result of that was Callisto getting pregnant – really, she should have realized he wasn’t Artemis, at some point during it all – but then anyways, some time later Artemis discovered Callisto was pregnant and had broken her vow of chastity, so Artemis had Callisto turned into an animal.  Guess what animal?  You have one guess.  Yeah.   _A bear_.  Are you with me so far?”

“I think so,” Diana said.

“Excellent.  Because this is where it gets crazy.”

It already was quite crazy, but there was no reason to point it out.  Lotte seemed to be entertaining herself just fine, and words couldn’t hurt, could they?  So Diana sat back on the blanket, closed her eyes, and listened.

“Some time later, but before bear!Callisto dies, she’s turned into a constellation.  Which constellation?  Ursa Major.  Yeah.  Ursula Callistis is like bear-star times a thousand.  She wasn’t happy with Chariot, referencing Ursa Minor – which, I forgot to mention, the Babylonians called the Wagon of Heaven – yes, wagon as in chariot – yes, that’s another strand so tightly entwined with everything else that it gives me a headache – yes, my head really is aching, believe it or not – so she had to name herself after Ursa Major, but that’s not surprising because we all know goddesses have big egos.  You couldn’t create a fictional character with more allusions if you tried.  And then you have her friend, Croix Meridies, and I don’t even know where to start analyzing this, but I’ll try: If what I’ve heard about them is true, then Ursula – or Chariot du Nord, or whatever you want to call her – was best friends with Croix, but they were also very different in personality.  Chariot playful and social and whatnot, and Croix the serious quiet type.  And if we isolated these personalities, we would call them common tropes, but they’re also, quite obviously, opposites.  In fiction, that’s called character foil, and this contrast is used to bring to attention certain aspects of a character – for example, wisdom or kindness.  The inevitable conclusion is that Croix is the foil to Chariot.  Or Chariot the foil to Croix, if you’d like.  Potayto-potahto.

“And then you look at Croix’s name – which, I should point out, was not decided by Chariot – and here I should also point out that Chariot didn’t choose her own name either, it was her parents – and Chariot’s parents have never made any contact with Croix’s parents – but now we return to the French language a moment – which, if you recall, _du Nord_ , Chariot’s surname, is from.  In French, there’s a constellation called the _Croix du Sud._  In English, it’s called Crux, which is Latin for cross, but it contains an asterism called the _Southern_ Cross.  Don’t want English, French, or Latin?  How about fifteenth century Venetian, where an explorer called Crux the Southern Chariot?  So whichever language you want, you find some derivative of ‘south’ – and even an outright chariot, in one case – and you realize there’s opposite meaning in the names Chariot du Nord and Croix Meridies, as well as their personalities, which makes you question how much can really be explained by coincidence.

“And that’s not even starting on Croix’s last name – which wasn’t chosen by her or her parents or her grandparents but in fact can be followed back several generations before the paper trail ends.  Anyways, Meridies is like meridian which isn’t a star or constellation but it can be useful for describing astronomy things – in fact, it has several different uses in astronomy, but we mostly know it for the geographical purpose – that is, a line that traverses from the north pole to the south pole – yes, from North to South, or as the French would say, _du Nord au Sud_ – or, if you want to take it even farther, Meridies is like meridiem, which is used for ante-meridiem and post-meridiem, which we all know as AM and PM, which describes the time of day, which is based on the sun’s position in the sky, which, as we all know, is a _star_.

“Yeah, those two are weirdly entwined.  Unnaturally entwined.  So imagine how I feel when I hear that there’s a place under Rastavan called Arcturus.  If you’re paying any attention, you should guess Arcturus is a star, asterism, or a constellation – and if you guessed star, then you’re right.  It’s the brightest star in the northern celestial hemisphere.  But it doesn’t end there.  We all love Greek, don’t we?  So let’s revisit this in Greek, where the word bear is _Arktos_ – yes, that’s right, the constellation Arcturus derives from the Greek for bear – and this adds another strand to the web, but this strand zigzags, loops, and floops all the way back to Ursula and Ursa Major.  And, in fact, _Arktos_ can go farther than just ‘bear’.  A full translation might yield something like ‘guardian of the bear’.  And at this point, it wouldn’t be silly to think Ursula is the bear, and thus the place she had claimed never to have visited, Arcturus, is, in fact, her guardian.  Or, if something was lost in translation, she is the guardian of Arcturus.”

“But enough about that.  We need a bigger web.  In Arcturus, who does Akko meet?  Someone named Altair.  I mean, really?  The twelfth brightest star in the night sky?  Not very original.  And is this a good time to point out Ursula’s bird, Alcor?  A star in the Big Dipper – _le Grand Chariot_ – which is in the – you’d better not have forgotten – Ursa Major constellation.  Moving on, there’s also the Azure Dragon, which Akko told me you took her to – that’s pretty romantic of you, and totally better than my idea – in fact, I can’t even remember what my idea was – it was probably really stupid – but anyways, the Azure Dragon is one of the four symbols in the Chinese constellations – and yes, you remember that Chariot is also a Chinese constellation.  Unfortunately, my brain is full of Greek, Latin, and French right now, so all I can say is the Azure Dragon represents a something or other that I really didn’t understand when I was reading it online but I’m willing to bet Ursula damn well knows since she created it and all.”

Long ago, Lotte had stopped making sense.  She had gone so far as to conceive of a place under Rastavan called Arcturus.  This was beyond an active imagination – they were dangerous delusions and it only seemed to be getting worse by the second.

Lotte took a deep breath of air.  Her face was turning red with exertion.  “Now if we want to come back to the beginning, isn’t it a little weird that Amanda named her vehicle Shooting Star?  Why in the world would she do that?  It makes no sense – not until you start thinking about the big picture – and once you start thinking about the big picture, you _can’t_ stop.  And it all comes back to Ursula – the one who manipulates the world around her.  She’s secretly a goddess walking among mortals, and she’s playing with us like we’re lego, making her own story and growing her own ego.  And, if you refuse to believe that, then the alternative is even worse.”

“The alternative?” Diana said.

“It’s a _theme_.  There’s a narrative.  Just like the character foil of Chariot and Croix is a literary device.  But real life isn’t supposed to have a theme, so it’s almost like we’re-”

“Please do not finish that thought,” Diana said, sitting up.  She had a very bad feeling about it all.  A premonition, Hannah would have called it.  “Questioning reality tends not to be a healthy activity.”

“But – _oh_ .”  Lotte’s eyes widened even further.  “Oh, fuck.   _You_ .  Your name is Diana.  How did I not see this earlier?  Callisto, knocked up by Zeus, was a follower of Artemis, but everything makes sense when you take a step away from the Greeks and listen to the _Romans_ .  Callisto, knocked up by Jupiter, was a follower of _Diana_ .”  Lotte scrambled back off the blanket and onto the grass, fear in her eyes.  “ _Diana_.  It makes perfect sense.  You’re a part of the conspiracy.”

Lotte reached under the blanket and pulled out a rifle.  Before Diana could understand why there had been a gun under their blanket in the first place, it was pointed at her and the safety disengaged.

“I know too much, don’t I?” Lotte said.  “You – you can’t let me live.”

“None of this is true,” Diana said, utterly frozen.

“You can’t trick me.  I’ve figured you all out.  Who else is a goddess?  Just you and Ursula?  Immortal goddesses prancing around in the realm of humans, fucking each other behind our backs and lying to our faces?”

Was this it?  Was this how Diana was going to die?  This was somewhere between death by falling down stairs and death by stabbing from a homeless man.  Painful, pointless, and lonely.  She wished Akko could be here.  Actually, no.  That would be putting Akko in danger.  But it didn’t stop her from wanting one last opportunity to see Akko and speak with her and have one last kiss.

She could pretend all day long that the reason she was here was because she wanted their friends to meet, but really, Diana just wanted to spend time with Akko, and become closer with her.  Unfortunately, Akko thought it was a good idea to introduce their friends and get past the speed bumps involved in that pending disaster.   _This_ disaster hadn’t even been on her radar, and now she would die with regrets that could have easily been erased.

At that moment, someone approached.  The footsteps in the grass gave her some hope.  The return of the dragon slayer, who would calm Lotte down and defuse the situation like it was just another day on the job.  And in the next moment, the footsteps instilled fear in her.  If Hannah or Barbara interrupted, Lotte might turn the gun on them.

All her irrational and rational fears evaporated, however, when she turned to see Sucy examining the scene.

“Oh, hi,” Sucy said.  “I see you two are getting along well.  Don’t mind me.  I think I’ll go buy us some cotton candy.”

Lotte turned the gun on her.  “Sucy, Sucy, Sucy.  What are you hiding?  Is it French?   _Sous-ci_ ?   _Under this_?  Is that a reference to Arcturus, hidden under Rastavan?  Have you been teasing us this whole time, thinking we were too stupid to notice?  What about Manbavaran?  What’s that mouthful supposed to mean?”

Sucy glared at Diana.  “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” Diana hissed.  “Don’t try to offset the blame.  This is _your_ fault.”

“Hold – hold on,” Lotte said, slumping over.  She dropped the gun.  “I don’t feel so well.  Can – can I kill you guys later?”

“Yes,” Sucy said, at the same time as Diana’s “No.”

But the answer was irrelevant, because Lotte never got to hear it.  She fell over unconscious.

 

* * *

 

Lotte’s heart was still beating, which was good.

Sucy didn’t seem especially concerned, which also might have been a good sign, or she might have just been a psychopath.  They moved Lotte back onto the blanket – the girl was oddly light, and Diana couldn’t imagine how she managed to carry around guns so heavy – and then Sucy sat beside her and began rummaging in her lab coat.  It calmed Diana down to know that, somewhere in the vast cavern of her pocket, there was something that would make Lotte better.

“Ah,” Sucy said.

She pulled out an onion.  Not a slice, but the entire vegetable.  She bit into it.  Not a tentative bite, but a greedy, starving, wide-mouthed attack.  It sounded like the crunch of an apple, and Diana involuntarily winced.

“How – how is this supposed to help?” she said.

Sucy swallowed.  “Huh?  Why would we help her?  She wants to kill us.”

“But – but she’s your friend!”

Sucy took another bite.  The onion did not bring tears to her eyes.  Upon further consideration, she _was_ a psychopath.

But any concern for Lotte was quickly forgotten when Diana heard a strained yelp.  Barbara had arrived, and her mouth was hanging open as she stared at Sucy, the gun, and Lotte’s unconscious form. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excluding Norse (& Gaelic) mythology, did Lotte miss any etymology from canon?


	37. Fire Works

Things were odd.

That was Akko’s first thought when she returned.

The main oddity was with the unexpected trio of Lotte, Barbara (who Diana introduced her to in short order), and Hannah.  Lotte was sleeping, her head resting on Barbara’s lap, yet Barbara almost seemed afraid of Lotte, like she was a bear in hibernation.  Hannah was sitting close by, watching like a hawk.  In turn, Diana was watching Hannah, looking somewhat concerned, and Sucy was ignoring the whole situation, like it didn’t concern her in the least.  That was Sucy’s equivalent of a normal person’s guilt, and it was obvious something had happened, though aside from Lotte, there hadn’t been any casualties.

“Sucy,” Akko said, “what happened?”

“Nothing.”

“What happened?” Akko repeated, this time to Diana.

“Lotte ate an apple from Sucy and is currently taking a rest.  She’ll be fine-” Diana looked to Sucy for confirmation, but received none.  “So don’t worry.”

“Oh, okay,” Akko said.  She’d suspected something along those lines.  “Ah, here come my friends and their chauffeur.  They got distracted at one of the concession stands.”

The chauffeur was leading the group up the hill.  She was also assigned the bags of food and miscellaneous items.  Upon arriving, those items dropped to the ground unceremoniously, and her attention immediately went to Akko and then Diana.

“Diana,” Akko said.  “This is Amanda.”

“Yo.”  Amanda waved, rather than offering a hand.

She wasn’t wearing a yukata – and somehow had had the audacity to tease Akko about wearing one – but rather went for a black hoodie and black sweatpants.  It was the perfect getup to hide in the darkness and generally be unnoticed.  And, if not for her orange hair, this would have worked fine.  All in all, it was weird and not good for a first impression.  But then again, it didn’t need to be.  Diana was already fully aware of Akko’s opinion of the chauffeur.  It was Constanze and Jasminka whom Akko was relying on to prove nice and stable human beings.

“Constanze Amalie von Braunschbank Albrechtsberger,” Akko continued, pointing to a short girl who offered a thumbs up.

She did have some weirdness about her, but it wasn’t the same aggressive air as Amanda, and her short height made her seem gentler.  The thumbs up she offered as a greeting acted as more than that – it was an extension of the hand, oddly comforting, and a desire to be friends, as Akko had remembered it.  Diana must have seen this differently, because she nodded stiffly.  Perhaps she was wondering what Constanze hid behind her (a Stanbot, trying not to draw attention to itself), or perhaps it was because of the greasy coveralls, which nobody had seen fit to suggest Constanze _not_ to wear.

“And Jasminka Antonenko.”

Jasminka was the ace up Akko’s sleeve.  She looked very pretty, in a purple yukata, and she was talkative, nice, and socially aware.

“Hungry?” Jasminka said, holding out a bag of chips.

Well, mostly.

This question seemed to take Diana by surprise.  She looked at the bag of chips, and then to Akko.  And, in all honesty, Akko didn’t know the answer to the silent question.  She had accepted, when they’d first met, but was it obligatory?  Would Jasminka be offended otherwise?  It didn’t seem likely, considering how she was the most laid back of them all.

“You can’t be making those kinds of offers to aristocrats, Jasminka,” Amanda said.  “They don’t eat plebeian food.  They only eat shit like gold flaked lobsters and shark fin soup.”

“Actually,” Diana said, addressing Jasminka, “I _am_ hungry.”

The ease with which Diana had been goaded into it surprised Akko.  Still, she sort of understood the innate desire to prove Amanda wrong.  There was just something so satisfying about it.

“Thank you,” Diana said, after eating the chip.

Following the first wave of introductions, but before anyone could get settled, a loud ‘ _oh_ ’ came from Amanda.  She had noticed Lotte sleeping on Barbara’s lap.  With arms crossed and a wide smile on her lips, she approached them.

“Never seen her sleep before,” she said.  “Almost looks innocent.”

“What do you mean by ‘almost’?” Barbara said.

“You don’t wanna know.”

It took a few seconds for Amanda to inevitably realize there was _another_ exposed target, and one who would react with more than snores.  Barbara was forced to remain sitting, with Lotte’s head on her lap, and with Amanda standing above them, the height difference was the perfect power play.

“So, which one are you?” Amanda said.  “Hannah Montana or the Barbs?”

“Excuse me?  My name is Barbara, and I would appreciate it if you did not forget that.”

Amanda dismissed this with a wave of her hand.  “I should introduce you to Wire.  Then you can be Barbs and Wire, the dynamic duo.”

Hannah perked up at this suggestion, and Akko regretted everything.  Not only would Amanda piece things together and tell all in a heartbeat, she would never stop bugging Akko about it.  Wire and Diana?  What a stupid idea that had been.

“Yo, Barbs, don’t be so selfish,” Amanda said.  “It looks like your friend wants a turn with Lotte.”

“ _What?_ ”  Hannah scoffed.  “You’re delusional.”

“I’m sorry,” Amanda said, adopting a genuinely apologetic tone.  “That was really disrespectful of me.  It’s because Lotte is used goods, isn’t it?  I get it.  I really do.  Aristocrats can’t be seen with secondhand things.  If you’d like, I can sleep on your lap.  I’m no hand-me-down – I’m a pure, innocent virgin, I swear.”

Hannah jumped to her feet.  Akko shouldn’t have let it get to this point, but Amanda had thrown her through a loop by starting with that heartfelt apology.  This was Amanda at her finest – insulting so many people in so few words, Akko could hardly follow.  But stopping them now was problematic.  There was an audience, and maybe Hannah couldn’t be seen backing down.  Interrupting now would feel like she was coming to the support of Amanda.  So, in silence, Akko cheered Hannah on.

“No need to get so worked up,” Amanda said, raising her hands in surrender.  “It was just a joke.  Well, I _am_ a virgin – but the rest was a joke, adjectives included.”

Not fully knowing the horror that was Constanze and Jasminka’s chauffeur, Hannah thought it a good idea to get as close as possible.  Like intimidation was a tactic, now that they were of equal height.  Still, it was brave, and Akko awarded her some points for this misguided courage.

What followed, Akko couldn’t quite tell, because a lot must have been communicated through eye contact, but the two girls stood face to face for several long seconds.  The entire group was silent – Diana looked more curious than concerned – and then Hannah spoke.

“When is your birthday?”

Amanda took a step back and broke eye-contact.  “Wha?”

“I would be remiss to make assumptions, so when is your birthday?”

“It’s, like, in spring?” Amanda said, abandoning the fight.  Her volume dropped.  “March, I guess.”

“ _’I guess’_ ?  How can you _guess_?”

“How?  When I don’t know.  Which happens to be often.  Though, usually, I don’t let people know it’s a guess, and that way I seem smarter than I am.  Tricks of the trade, am I right?”

“That’s-”

“But if you must know, I declare it to be March seventeenth, because that’s the day Jasminka bought me a cake, this year.  And, hey, seventeen is a good number.  Something nice about it, yeah?”

“It _is_ prime,” Hannah conceded.  (And Akko agreed – there was something beautiful about prime numbers.)

Amanda clapped her hands together.  “And if that’s all, I’ve got a blanket to set up.  Coincidentally, it’s longer and thicker than Lotte’s, so if you want to have a good night, you know where to come.  And that invitation is extended to everyone whose name doesn’t start with an ‘A’... or ‘E’.”

As Amanda and Constanze set to work squaring out their blanket, Hannah sat back down next to Barbara, and the tension was gone.  It had been a roller-coaster of a five minutes, but somehow, Hannah had lucked out and hit Amanda’s sore point.  Yet Hannah was now looking extremely conflicted, and if Amanda smelled even the smallest hint of pity, things would reignite with ten times the intensity.

For now, though, Akko sat down next to Diana.  Lotte was doing her a service, by keeping Hannah and Barbara occupied.  

“This is fine,” Akko said.

Diana gave her a look that said otherwise.  “You would say that even if you were sitting in a burning house.”

“Naturally.”

 

* * *

 

Things progressed non-disastrously from there.  Amanda had set up her blanket directly next to theirs, so they could mingle.  When she wasn’t looking, Akko had checked, and yes, their blanket was nicer than Lotte’s.  But, since Lotte was sleeping on Barbara, Barbara couldn’t move, and Hannah refused to leave Barbara’s side, and Diana was sticking with Akko, so the only person to take up Amanda’s invitation was Sucy, who moved over and began talking to Constanze – probably about some project they had in the works.

“I’m going to get some cotton candy,” Akko announced, standing up.

Exactly as not planned, but desperately desired, Diana also rose.  “I’ll come with.”

“Eh?  You want some too?” Akko said, unable to resist.  “It’s not healthy, y’know.”

Diana glared at her.  “Once in a while can’t hurt.”

Hannah was watching – that darned suspicious girl – so Akko only nodded and said, “Let’s go, then.”

They followed the treeline at the top of the hill, heading towards the lights of the main festival grounds.

“Could you answer a question for me?” Diana said.

“Of course.  I can answer ten, a hundred, or a thousand questions, for you!”

“Without any extraneous information, or unsolicited opinions?”

“Uh.”  Akko wondered if she was walking into a trap.  “Sure,” she said with a little less enthusiasm.

“And without assuming I’m ignorant, because I’m fairly confident I already know the answer, but I do not want to accept it-”

“Just ask me already.”

“What is cotton candy?”

Akko sighed.  “Sorry, Diana.  It’s exactly what you think it is.”

“Sugar?”

“One hundred and ten percent... and it’s amazing.”

Somehow, as they joined the crowd on the festival path, they ended up holding hands.  She wasn’t even sure who initiated it, but she was happy how easily it had happened.  And, in truth, this was the happiest Akko could ever remember being, and she feared what that spelled for the future.  A silly notion, a small possibility, a flicker of selfishness made her wonder if this happiness couldn’t be kept forever.  If she begged Diana and they left the country, abandoning their friends and family and the conflicts therein.  Abandon the battle with the government, abandon Big F’s expectations, abandon the real challenges of life.

But would that be true happiness, or would she be haunted by guilt?  Would memories of Rastavan forever torment her, or would they hide away, for her own well being?  If Akko and Diana were on a remote, tropical beach, right now – _Diana in a bikini, Diana in a bikini, Diana in a bikini_ – would that be fine?

When Akko had been Zapped, she had lost a part of her life.  The part that held her dreams, innocence, and morals.  But she had adapted, and had thought she didn’t need those.  And maybe she didn’t – maybe they were best lost, while she lived with Big F – but now he was dead, and she was faced with moving on, and when there were people like Diana around to judge her, wasn’t it necessary to reclaim that part of her, so she wouldn’t disappoint?

It wasn’t just being unemployed, unemployable, and nonexistent in the social hierarchy that Akko burdened Diana with.  If she wanted a future with Diana (Atsuko Cavendish sounded nice), then it was her desire for fire, which usually caused trouble, that needed to go.  It was her twisted morals, that needed to be untwisted.  Her disregard for the law, too.  If it was for Diana, it needed to be done.

So the answer was an emphatic _no_.  There was no leaving.

As a reward for this hard thinking, Akko bought herself cotton candy.  Diana did not, despite her earlier claims and Akko’s pestering.  To make up for this lie, Akko demanded a stuffed animal from the ring toss game, and Diana complied, though it took her four tries to get the one she wanted Akko to have.  Unfortunately, Akko only had two hands, and since hand-holding was a prerequisite and she already had cotton candy in one hand, she had to make Diana carry Mister Puppy.

They had just left the booths and were walking back along the top of the hill when Akko felt a subtle pull.  Did she imagine it?  No, there it was again.  Diana was trying to divert them.  Akko tightened her grip and took charge, leading them to a secluded area a few steps into the forest.

“What’s up?” Akko said.

“Nothing,” Diana said.  “I was just thinking.  If you get something sweet, then I deserve something sweet, too.”

“Such as?” Akko said, tilting her head and making sure to look clueless.

To Akko’s surprise, there was no more playful banter.

Diana set Mister Puppy down (facing in the opposite direction so he wouldn’t see anything indecent) and turned to face her.  “ _You_ ,” she said.

With two free hands, she held the advantage over Akko, and she made good use of it by pushing Akko up against a nearby tree.  Her kiss started at Akko’s lips, and then to Akko’s disappointment left – and then to Akko’s pleasure, continued across her cheek and then down to her neck.  Pinned against the tree, Diana’s knee between her legs, all Akko wanted was more physical contact.  Through her bliss, she was aware that there were no distractions, like fire, to stop it.  And then she wondered if she was going to lose her virginity pinned against a tree in a forest by the girl she loved.  It didn’t come much better than that.  Well, add a little sugar, and maybe it did get better.

“Did you seriously just look at the candy?” Diana said, pulling her hands away from Akko’s waist.

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I was thinking about putting it down.”

“Then do it.”

“But there’s nowhere to put it.  It’ll get dirty.”

“Me or it,” Diana said.

When she smiled, Akko realized she was seeing Diana’s evil side.  And, well, Akko could reciprocate.

“Fine,” she said.  “Close your eyes.”

“There’s no point.  I already know what your decision will be.”

“Just do it.”

Diana’s eyes fluttered shut, and she leaned forward for the impending kiss.  But Akko did not grant it.  Instead, she waited.  A few seconds passed before it became obvious Diana knew what was going on.  And then followed a few seconds where she was probably struggling internally, dignity versus desire, and though Akko knew which one she wanted to win, she still enjoyed this pause.

Finally, the moment Akko had been waiting for arrived.  Diana opened her mouth to complain.  “Akk-”

In went the fuzzy clump.  Diana’s reaction was to recoil, as though afraid Akko had put a dead mouse in her mouth, and then when she recognized the taste of the candy – well, maybe she didn’t, if she’d never had it before – her eyes opened.  Maybe she wanted to complain.  Maybe she wanted to moan in delight at the gloriousness of the pure, unadulterated sugar.  Maybe Akko didn’t care.

Maybe Akko wanted some, too.

It was with two kinds of hunger and curiosity that Akko pressed her lips against Diana’s.  Before all the cotton candy could melt into lumps of sugar, Akko needed to get to work.  She was granted access to Diana’s mouth easy enough, but once Diana understood her intentions, Akko found resistance.  Their tongues wrestled for a minute, and when Akko realized she couldn’t win, it turned into a dance, as she visited every surface she could, Diana following in annoyance.  Though Akko wasn’t getting as much sugar as she had planned, she couldn’t get over how amazing her idea had been, and how delicious Diana tasted.

“Why not both?” Akko said when she finally pulled away for a breath.

“You are the greediest girl I’ve ever met.”

“Mmhmm,” Akko whispered throughout the next kiss.  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I think a sugar glider would make a fine pet, so come back and live with me.”

She had whispered it so casually, the kiss resumed for a split second after.  Then, like _she_ hadn’t been prepared for the weight of the request, Diana pulled away.  And now she was looking at Akko expectantly.

The mood was going to be ruined.  Akko knew it.  In fact, it already was.  But Akko had done a lot of thinking, and it wasn’t wise to dismiss planning just because Diana’s hot breath was on her neck and Akko was aroused.

“I’m really happy you said that, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Diana took a step back.

“Please don’t go thinking silly stupid things,” Akko said.  “I really, really want to live with you, but I feel like, right now, I’m just a burden.”

“That’s not true.”

“I – I’m like an ox in a no-pets-allowed apartment.  I’m not really subtle, and you need to keep me hidden, but someday, something’s going to give – like the floor, if it was an apartment in Rastavan – and I don’t want to ruin your family’s name or disappoint you any more than I already have.”

“Akko, you wouldn’t disappoint me.  I know you wouldn’t.  Besides, my family name will survive without me.  It’s a responsibility one of my extended family will be more than glad to hold.  I’ve known for years that I won’t be continuing the Cavendish name.  I’m not interested in men – I’m interested in you, Akko.”

Holy moly, those words were sweeter than the cotton candy in her hands.  She was in danger of overdosing.

“You were right,” Diana continued, “when you said my house is too big for one person.  So please, come back.”

“I – I can’t.  Not right away.  There’s something that I need to do, before that.”

“Is it about Rastavan?”

“That’s part of it,” Akko admitted.

“Then... once that’s resolved?”

“Once – once it’s all fixed.”

Akko flinched when the sky above them exploded.  Looking up through the tree branches, she saw green sparks flying off in every direction, and then it was quiet again, like it had never happened.

“That’s the two-minute warning,” Diana said.  “Let’s return.”

Akko nodded, and, just as they were about to step out of the forest, Diana pulled her in for one last, quick kiss.  Its tenderness Akko couldn’t interpret as anything but understanding, and she felt a hundred times better when the finally stepped out of the cover of the trees.  In a way, her unwillingness to be a burden on Diana was, in the now, a burden.  It was unavoidable, but at least Diana gave her this chance to fix things.

Halfway back to their friends, Akko realized Mister Puppy was still waiting for them in the forest, and she had to run back, grab him, and run all the way back.  Hands full of cotton candy and Mister Puppy, there was no hand-holding, but this was fine because they were rejoining their friends.

When they arrived at the blankets, nobody was dead or more injured than they had been previously.  That was a plus.  However, Sucy was missing, and that was a definite minus.

“What happened to Constanze and Sucy?” Akko asked, looking around.

“Helping the pyrotechs,” Amanda said.  “The fireworks scheduled weren’t impressive enough.”

 _Pyrotechnician_.  Akko liked the sound of the word.  Would it be difficult to get certified?  Were there many jobs in that field?  Maybe something she would look into, if she survived the coming weeks.

“Is that safe?” Diana asked.

“If Constanze is there, it won’t be that bad,” Akko said.  “She’ll rein Sucy in.”

They sat down next to Hannah and Barbara.  There was no progress on Lotte’s part, but Barbara didn’t seem terribly bothered by this.  Lotte would miss the fireworks if that continued to be the case, which was a shame, since she was the one who first suggested the outing.

Diana leaned in closer.  Without even trying, their hands met.  It was brave on Diana’s part, because Hannah was sitting on her other side, but considering their make-out session earlier, Akko wondered if maybe she _wanted_ to be caught.  If the threat of discovery excited her.  As Akko’s thoughts became increasingly perverted, Jasminka moved over to their blanket.  Because Barbara was unable to go get food herself, and Hannah showed no interest in leaving Barbara’s side, it seemed she had taken it upon herself to feed them.

This time, however, she stopped to stare.

“Akko, you have something on your cheek,” she said.

Amanda crawled over to their blanket.  “Lipstick?”

Akko quickly brought a hand up to wipe her cheek, but it was too late; Hannah and Barbara were staring.

“Ahaha.  My bad,” Akko said.  “I tripped.  It’s just blood.”

Amanda looked like she wanted to comment further, but a cookie found its way into her mouth when she opened it to speak.  Jasminka was truly the hero of the night.

Barbara seemed to have bought the excuse, and though Hannah did look away, Akko couldn’t help but feel like she was still watching them, out of the corner of her eye.  On Amanda’s second attempt to speak, she found a second cookie, and, defeated, she returned to her blanket, stretching out on it now that she was all alone.

Credit to Diana, she pretended not to hear the whole thing.  She was staring forward as though force of will alone could detonate the fireworks.  Her hand was sweating, though, and Akko really wanted to kiss her, or tease her, or something, but she pulled her hand away, probably self-conscious about it.

That was when the sky lit up.

One second, the night was dark and quiet, and the next, bright and loud.  A _crack_ in the sky, an eruption of green.

It lit the field in stutters, but Akko wasn’t watching the illuminated grass or sky.  The sound of the first explosion had given way to groans, and she looked around for a moment to figure out what had happened.  The fireworks had awoken Lotte – who probably thought it was gunfire, in whatever dreams she’d had – and Barbara had looked down at the same moment (when, really, she should have been watching the sky), and the result of this had been a painful head-butt.

There was very little pity for them, although Amanda was the only one to actually laugh out loud.  The rest – Hannah especially – just seemed exasperated.  And then, the fireworks, indifferent to the distraction, continued in red.  More simultaneous explosions near the first one – bright yellows in contrast to the black backdrop – made the night sky shine ever more fiercely.

Sucy and Constanze returned, but Amanda didn’t stir.  She seemed comfortable, spread out on the blanket like she was making a snow angel.  This changed quickly when Sucy pulled out a vial and popped the cap.  In seconds, all three of them were sitting next to each other, watching the ongoing fireworks.

Despite everyone present, Akko found herself focusing on the girl beside her.  She couldn’t help but think back to Diana’s offer.

_So come back and live with me._

Akko had wanted so badly to accept then, but there were things she needed to do first.  Not only would going back put Diana and the House of Cavendish at risk, but there was the always present thought of the burden that Akko was.  Unemployed, pyromaniac, criminal.  But there was a remedy to all that.  If Croix had been truthful, it could all be fixed.  She could regain her name, get a job, and start medication.  Things could be normal, and then, when it was all resolved, Akko would hope with every inch of her being that Diana’s offer would still be there.

Until then, Akko had to prepare herself.  The government was a powerful enemy.  But that wasn’t to say they were unstoppable.  They were a force made up of humans, and Akko knew better than anyone just how broken humans could be.  (Besides, if all else failed, Akko still held the strongest weapon of all.  No – not fire.  A reset button, as it were.  People were controlled by money, and she could reset it all.  There was a lot of power within such a thing, and Akko had already decided she wouldn’t use that weapon until she regained her name, if ever.  Only when she was Atsuko Kagari would she allow herself to consider such an extreme.)

The sky echoed with bangs, and a rainbow of colours appeared.  Sucy and Constanze’s work, no doubt.  It was brighter and louder than all its predecessors.  Clusters broke free from each other, and exploded into more lights, and then they divided into hundred more, until there were thousands of them far above.  Akko’s surroundings were forgotten in this fleeting moment of colours.

It was impossible to know what was going to come next, so she tried to capture her feelings in the moment.  Her excitement, her joy, her satisfaction.  She never really thought about it before, but Sucy, Lotte, Amanda, Constanze, and Jasminka were like her family (Amanda being a second cousin whose name she could vaguely recall).  They, too, would be risking their lives in the upcoming days.  They, too, were afraid.  Lotte’s responsibilities were perhaps the most difficult, and it wasn’t unlikely that stress and fear had spawned this desire to spend time having fun with friends.  So, this wasn’t all for Akko and Diana.  It was for everyone.  Akko would remember this day – this night – and fight to have another.

The night sky darkened.  There would be more to come, but it was a break, and what followed would be more blinding.  More spellbinding.  This was the calm before the storm.

Akko briefly wondered how likely was it that the fireworks would start a forest fire.  There were lots of trees and vegetation around, so she could only hope.  Maybe Sucy would be giving her another present.  How many people could say they had been gifted a wildfire before?

As if Diana could read her thoughts, she reached out and took Akko’s hand.  Their fingers entwined and Diana gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.  I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> For those who are curious of my future plans: I'll continue working on my ongoing stories and maybe write for some smaller fandoms (Flying Witch, Girlish Number, Sora no Woto, the Aria series, Urara Meirochou, Gabriel DropOut, Neptunia, & others).
> 
> LWA is a decent sized fandom, so I don’t feel any pressing need to contribute more, but if (when?) I do, it will be the sequel to Chance of Fire (or possibly a prequel, first).


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